


Self-Control

by Starmouse123



Series: Hierarchy [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, M/M, No mpreg, Omega Dean, Plot Driven, Slow Build, long fic, oh god so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 83,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starmouse123/pseuds/Starmouse123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel moves to Lawrence with his close friend Daphne, intent on starting a new life for himself. Once he saves a young omega in heat from an alpha, police officer Dean Winchester, first on the scene, becomes curious about the quiet man. Castiel has been on the run for years, but in this new town, it seems as though his past will finally catch up with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lawrence

In an entirely unsurprising turn of events, Castiel found himself roped into helping out in the morning; the curse of being _reliable_. As soon as the doors of the diner had been unlocked and the sign in the window flipped to OPEN, Castiel retreated and retrieved his worn maroon backpack, stuffed under the counter in its usual place. Daphne called out a soft and customary, “Thank you, Castiel!” but she only got a bleary grunt in response. He took his regular seat in the back of the diner, backpack between his legs. Daphne whisked by and rewarded him with coffee before leaving him be. They didn’t speak much in the mornings before they'd done their warm-up routines, and the only other person in the building was the cook, but he just whistled tonelessly and ignored the both of them, concentrating on his work.

It had been weeks since the diner had been reopened, and Castiel’s time here so far had been almost uniformly uneventful. Just as he wanted it. The trouble that he had come to expect had yet to rear its ugly head.

After he got comfortable, Castiel pulled out the old book Daphne had given him, taking a few futile seconds to try to smooth out old creases before opening it and finding his place. She'd made a list of books, back when Castiel had just moved in with her, so that he could get better at reading English. He would need the practice in the upcoming months, so he hunkered in and started reading.

People started to trickle in for the morning rush, bringing Castiel out of his concentration each time the bell above the door announced their presence. Daphne had already gained customers that she was certain would be regulars, and had regained customers that had been regulars before the diner had closed, and they now only glanced over once or twice to spot Castiel in his usual place. It was an improvement to the unabashed staring that had been their previous habit. Even a town as big as this one thrived on gossip, and despite the influx of college students this one got every fall, new residents were a curiosity.

Especially an unmated omega and her mysterious friend.

Castiel made it through three more chapters before giving up, turning his gaze to the window at his side, and watched as people passed by on their way to work. Today the sky hung close overhead, grey and misty, and his mood had turned restless with it. Castiel looked around, tapping his fingers against the table, and his gaze fell on two middle aged women at a table on the other side of the diner. They were looking at him, but they quickly turned away, not wanting to be caught staring. He knew why they were curious, of course. Not being able to tell his place in the Hierarchy made some people very unsettled.

With nothing left to entertain him here, Castiel stuffed the book back into his frayed backpack and stood up to make his way to the counter, passing Daphne.

He caught her eye and she turned to him for a moment. “Do you need help here before I leave?”

Daphne shook her head. “No, you can go home. Alfie just got here, so I’ll call you if I need you.”

The stares of the two women returned, prickling the back of his neck with awareness as he nodded in response. When Castiel turned and passed by the two women as he made his way to the door, he knew they would try to scent the air around him in vain. It was a habit some developed when they encountered a cover scent without another masking pheromone to hide the deception. Although it showed he was hiding something, he had no desire to use a masking pheromone. Many assumed the most likely scenario and let it go, and people thinking they knew the secret never dug for another.

The door clanged behind him as Castiel exited the diner, and he glanced up at the low hanging clouds, dark with moisture. The smell of ozone laced the air, and though the rain hadn’t started up yet, it would shortly. Daphne’s diner was located just a block off of Mass. Street, but he turned in the opposite direction and walked a bit faster than normal. Like the diner, their house had been given to Daphne when her uncle, the owner, had disappeared one day and had never been found again. Instead of selling it, Daphne had taken it as a chance to start a new life, for the both of them. Castiel caught sight of the little house as the first light drops of rain started to fall, hurrying under the awning.

Besides the patter of light rain against the windows and the slow ticking of the clock in the entryway, the house was still and quiet. All their boxes had been unpacked and the items sat new in their place. Dust had yet to settle on anything. The only exceptions of neatness in the house were the attic, where they'd put the boxes of things from Daphne's uncle she'd not gone through yet, and Castiel's own room. Daphne had said once it was like living with a teenaged alpha, and meant it as a joke, though Castiel hadn't taken it as one. He exhaled out a long breath as he entered his room, kicking the clothes strewn across the floor into a corner and placing his backpack on his unmade bed as he shrugged off his trenchcoat.

It was time to distract himself with work.

 

The week passed slowly, and Castiel continued to be pulled into helping at the diner more often than not. He expected it, though Daphne wouldn't let him get a full-time job anywhere, since he'd soon be too busy with college classes to help at all. Occasionally, an alpha would come into the diner and bother the omegas, most often Daphne herself. Usually a college student or drifter, these troublemakers would hover until a sharp word from Daphne or another customer would drive them out, but there was one alpha that watched her, not saying anything, and he set Castiel on edge every time.

When trouble did come, Castiel had been back at his usual table in the diner, watching the other alpha, as he waited for Daphne to end her shift and let their new college employee close up by himself. Besides the alpha, there were only two young college students bent over their coffee mugs, who both straightened when the door swept open, blinds clattering at the abrupt force.

Castiel turned his head as a disheveled girl paused at the doorway, not becoming concerned until he saw her scan the entire diner, eyes widening when she saw the other alpha, but before anyone had reacted to her sudden appearance, a breeze blew past her into the diner.

Everyone froze. The smell of an omega in heat assaulted Castiel’s nose, the reaction instinctual and instantaneous.

Anything she might have said was drowned out by a loud growl, and she twisted and ran back into the darkening streets before another moment passed. Castiel only had a second before the alpha on the other side of the diner overturned his table with a crash, eyes red, as he lunged out of his seat after her.

“DAPHNE!” Castiel roared, startling the other two customers with the volume.

She ran out of the back as he sprinted out of his seat, not bothering to slow as he yelled “Omega!” She would know what to do. He caught the edge of the door before it had a chance to swing shut and ran after the retreating forms. The alpha had gained ground on the omega, closing the distance fast. Castiel wouldn’t be able to intercept in time.

Once the omega chanced a glance back and saw the red eyes of the alpha approaching, she made a mistake and darted into the alley between buildings, heading towards the busier street one block over. The alpha followed, both disappearing from sight. Castiel cursed and sped up, rounding the corner just as the omega screamed.

The sound cut short as the alpha pinned her to the alley wall, one hand on her throat, and the other pawing at her shirt. He was taller and bigger than Castiel, but that would hardly be a problem. Castiel didn’t make a sound, so the alpha was unprepared when Castiel rammed into his side and knocked him down, breaking his hold. As the alpha scrambled upright, eyes still red and mouth open in a snarl, Castiel stepped between the two.

The alpha looked too swayed by instinct to be reasoned with, but Castiel could still try. "Stop this now and you won't be hurt," Castiel warned, putting up a hand. Hoping to prevent further physical confrontation, Castiel let his own eyes burn red for a second. A threat from another alpha would make him pause, if just for a moment. The other alpha hesitated and drew in a breath, but the scent of an opposing alpha was absent, Castiel suddenly realized. The alpha charged, instinct overriding reason once more.

It was unavoidable. Castiel knocked the reaching arms to the side, grabbing the one closest to him as the alpha’s momentum drove him forward, and used the motion to dislocate the alphas arm at the shoulder. The other man howled in pain and dropped to the alley floor, clutching his shoulder.

When he was sure the other alpha could cause no more problems, Castiel turned his attention to the omega. She had fallen to the ground as well, clutching her throat, and when she saw his attention had turned to her, she scooted backwards until her back hit the alley wall again, looking ready to kick out at him if he approached.

Castiel lifted his hands up, palms facing her. “Be easy. I mean you no harm.”

Her narrowed eyes told him she didn’t believe that, but when he sat down on the ground, cross-legged and facing her, expectant on some sort of response, she blinked, seeming to reconsider.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” Castiel made sure to keep his voice calm and level, not wanting to alarm her further. She smelled like sex – the pheromones of her heat clogging the muggy air. Castiel could even feel his body reacting to it; his heart beating faster, blood flowing to new areas.

The omega looked up at him from her defensive curl, eyes calculating, and this close Castiel could see her pupils had blown large. She was young, maybe caught unawares by a first heat, and she still seemed relatively responsive, but that wouldn’t last very much longer. She considered him for a moment before slowly shaking her head.

An idea formed in Castiel's mind. “Were you looking for the omega that runs the diner?”

She nodded this time. “Yeah-“ her voice rasped over the word, and she winced and cleared her throat before trying again. “Heard the owner was another omega. Thought she’d be the safest person to go to for-” she gestured to herself, and glanced over at the alpha on the ground.

No doubt she had been seeking asylum from another omega, but this wasn't Castiel's first time helping an omega in need, either.

“Her name’s Daphne. I’ll take you to her, if you want.” He inched closer and held out his hand. She looked between him and his outstretched hand, considering.

Before she could respond, the pounding of multiple footsteps approaching fast made her tense again, and Castiel turned to face the alley entrance. A police officer sprinted into view and as soon as he saw Castiel, he raised an object threateningly in his direction. His features were indistinct, a dark silhouette against the street lights behind him.

“Hey, back away from the omega!” he barked, voice sharp and commanding.

Castiel froze, but Daphne appeared behind the officer. “Wait! He’s helping!” She ran in front of the policeman before he had a chance to stop her, dropping to her knees in front of the girl. “Are you okay?” she asked the young omega, who only bit her lip hard and shrugged. Daphne wrapped her up in a hug, and the girl breathed shakily against her neck, the scent of another omega ideal in calming a heat, if only for a little bit.

Daphne nodded at Castiel, and he stood up to face the police officer, still at the entrance of the alley way. His arms had dropped slightly, and now he was looking at the alpha still curled up on the ground, cursing and moaning in pain. Castiel stepped forward, wary. He'd experienced a few instances where the police had accidentally sent an alpha to one of these cases, and it had never ended well. 

“Officer, I’m afraid we need to ask you for a ride."

 


	2. Safe-house

Dean had to take a second to understand the scene in front of him.

One of the two males lay prostrate on the ground, groaning in pain, while the other stood between Dean and the two omegas, seemingly unharmed. Dean couldn’t get a read on them even when he scented the alley, and he immediately wanted to cover his nose when he did so. The air in the alleyway hung thick with pheromones, overpowering all other smells. He had thought the other man was another alpha, fighting for the chance to take the omega in heat, but the man looked unaffected in his weird trenchcoat. Must be a beta, but he still didn’t look the type able to take an alpha down barehanded.

His radio buzzed with static, the concerned voice of his partner Benny breaking the tension. “Dean? What’s happening?” Dean hesitated, eyes still on trenchcoat man, but he dropped his Taser the rest of the way down to switch on his end of the line.

“We’re clear. Alpha is down for the count and the omega is safe for now. Don’t approach – she’s in heat. Copy?”

“Yeah, I copy.” Benny grumbled in reply.

Letting go of the receiver, Dean turned back to the woman comforting the omega. “Does she have somewhere to go?”

The woman looked up, but it was the man in the trenchcoat who shook his head and answered. “No, but Daphne and I have a room for this purpose. We should get her there immediately.” His voice was deep, rough and gravelly, not what Dean had expected.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Dean said, shaking his head. “There’s a public omega shelter for KU-“

Straightening up, the woman - Daphne, Dean decided - drew back a little from the other omega to glare at Dean. “We’re taking her home with us. It’s a licensed safe-house if you need more convincing.” Her tone brooked no argument, but if it really was a safe-house, Dean would have no trouble with-

“No, wait!” The omega grabbed Daphne a bit tighter, drawing her attention. “I can’t go anywhere. Not when-” she lowered her voice when Daphne turned back to face her and continued in hushed tones. Dean shifted in place as they spoke, purposefully too quiet to be overheard, and noticed trenchcoat man staring at him. He stood just a little shorter than Dean himself, the too-big creeper coat covering a disheveled suit and tie. The rest of his features were too indistinct to see, thanks to the dim lighting of the alleyway.

“Castiel.” Their appraisal of one another was broken by Daphne’s voice, and the man – Castiel it seemed– turned to the two omegas. When Daphne beckoned him closer, Castiel approached them and crouched as Daphne and the other omega talked to him quietly, nodding in response. Dean narrowed his eyes. The hell were they talking about?

They all stood up after coming to an agreement, Daphne supporting the other young omega by her shoulders. She turned to Dean. “A ride please?”

Dean nodded and turned to the side to speak into his mic. “Benny, we're gonna take the cruiser to get the omega to a safe-house. You need to secure the alpha. Come around from Mass Street to the alley to avoid us. It’s only about 50 yards past the diner.”

“Sounds like a plan, brother.”

Before Benny had finished his sentence, Castiel tried to walk past Dean and out of the alleyway. Dean put his hand out to stop him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, backing up a few steps to keep Castiel in front of him. "Where are you going? You need to stay so we can get a statement.”

Castiel glanced back at the omegas trailing behind him. “Krissy would not accept our help unless we…retrieved something for her. Daphne and Krissy will go with you immediately, and I'll join you as soon as I can.”

This time, Daphne walked past him and linked her free arm through Dean’s, still supporting Krissy with the other, and she turned him around before he could protest. Castiel took the opportunity and slid past them. “We need to go now, officer. Castiel will meet us at the house later and give you his statement then. Krissy takes priority at the moment.” She sounded like she had done this before. Actually, both of them sounded like they had done this before.

He grumbled a little, eying Castiel’s retreating back, but she was right. The alpha had managed to prop himself into a sitting position, clutching his shoulder, but Dean only gave him a cursory glance. He led them to the cruiser after he saw the silhouette of Benny on the opposite side of the alley, thankful no one else was around to cause any more problems.

Daphne sat in the back of the cruiser with Krissy and directed him to her house, spending the rest of the time in silence. It wasn’t far. They arrived within minutes, and Daphne lead Krissy into the house as soon as Dean had parked, gesturing for him to follow. The small gold sticker of an Omega safe-house caught his eye from its corner of a window as they entered. While Daphne took Krissy upstairs to get her settled, Dean waited in the living room, but he didn’t sit down or relax. He couldn't help himself from snooping as he waited for Daphne to rejoin him. The small house looked picture perfect, but strangely empty and suspiciously clean. He didn't trust clean houses. Pictures of Daphne and other strangers in shiny picture frames sat on the mantle, but none of them had Castiel in them. When Dean sniffed the air, he could only smell lingering traces of Daphne, a sweet and faint omega scent. Hm.

After a few minutes, he wandered back into the front hall and then to the kitchen. A few pairs of shoes lined the entryway, including one pair of loafers that were way too big to be Daphne's, which reassured Dean that Castiel would in fact be back. Probably. Dean made his way to the kitchen, which looked a lot more lived in than the living room, but it didn't fully satisfy his curiosity.

“Need something to drink, officer?”

At the voice, Dean startled and turned around guiltily. “Ah, no, I’m good.”

Daphne came forward from where she had paused at the doorway, and Dean finally had the time to really look at her. Loose curls of brown hair barely touched her shoulders, and her large hazel eyes gave her face a warm and open feel. She definitely looked the part of a stable and caring omega. “Krissy is upstairs in our guest room – I got her settled down. Well, as much as I can before Castiel comes back.” She smiled at him. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced yet. I’m Daphne Allen.” Dean shook the offered hand.

“Dean Winchester. So, how is she?”

Daphne shrugged. “She’s reasonably shaken. Luckily, Castiel stopped the alpha from doing anything more.”

“Do you do this often?” Dean gestured to the stairs.

“Often enough. We just moved here a few weeks ago, so this is our first one here in town.”

That would explain the newness of the house. “What is Castiel retrieving for her?”

Daphne glanced back to the stairs as if making certain Krissy wasn’t listening in. “We’re pretty sure she’s on her own with a younger kid to look after, maybe squatting in an empty house. This isn’t her first heat, so I doubt she can afford suppressants. She gave an address to Castiel so he could find her brother and bring him here. Someone broke in and went through their stuff, which is why she was out and about during her heat, and she wouldn’t come with us until she was sure we would take him in as well. Castiel is probably finding the kid as we speak.”

“And you didn’t trust the police to do it?” Annoyance sharpened Dean’s tone.

“Krissy didn’t, no. She only trusted Castiel with it because he’s met her brother before. And he isn’t a cop. No offense.”

“Awesome.”

“Don’t worry, Castiel knows what he’s doing. It’ll be fine.”

Arms crossed, Dean only grunted in response. His cellphone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to find a text from Benny.

_Got ride from Jo. Alpha at hospital now w/ dislocated shoulder. Don’t wait up_

“Looks like I can stay to take Castiel’s statement when he gets back with the kid. Do you mind if I take yours now?”

Daphne shook her head.

 

Once the preliminaries were over, Dean put away his small recorder, satisfied with her answers. They had migrated to the living room, Dean claiming the comfortable couch and Daphne taking the armchair facing it. She hadn’t seen any of the action, but Daphne had noticed the alpha on several occasions in the diner before this, just staring at her. Castiel had not liked him at all.

“So Castiel lives here, yes?” Dean's eyes slid back over to the pictures on the mantle.

Daphne hummed in response, nodding. “We fell in together almost two years ago in Chicago. I had already been certified with a safe-house there, so we just continued the process here. You won’t be able to smell him, if you’ve been wondering.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow, but Daphne just smiled and didn’t say anything more. Scent blockers? Was this Castiel an omega? Even a masking scent would leave its traces, so that meant Castiel was only using the blocker. Why the hell would anyone do that? It completely ruined the purpose of using the blocker in the first place. He hadn’t looked like an omega, but judging on looks alone was bullshit. Dean was proof of that. Maybe he was one of those crazy left-wings that covered their scents so they didn’t get treated preferentially to protest continuing omega discrimination.

When Daphne laced her fingers together, Dean noticed she wasn’t wearing a ring. At first it had seemed like the two were an item, but she had given no indication to it, no matter how much he tried to draw out an answer. Before he could ask anything else, Dean heard the creak of the front door opening. Both Daphne and Dean stood up to meet Castiel as he entered the front hall, one hand on the shoulder of a young boy, no more than seven or eight years old. It was obvious that this was the omega’s brother, his sharp angular face and threadbare clothes a sure sign of hard times. His small frame tensed when he saw Dean’s uniform, panic blooming across his face. “You promised-“

“I know. He is only here to talk to me, not to take you away.” Castiel assured him, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. Dean’s heart gave a little tug at the sight of the distressed kid. He knew the position he was putting them in. The police were now involved and child services would have to be called, no matter how horrible it made Dean feel. But they didn’t have to be notified just yet. Dean bent down in front of the kid, who leaned back into Castiel.

“My name’s Dean. What’s yours?”

The kid hesitated, hands behind his back. “Shawn.” He said it so softly Dean almost didn’t catch it.

“Daphne here can take you upstairs to see your sister while I talk to Castiel. How does that sound?” Shawn nodded.

Dean looked up at the other two to see them give each other a _look_ before Daphne came forward. _Damn_ they were good at silent conversations. Daphne put out a hand and Shawn took it, glancing back at Castiel for reassurance before she led him up the stairs.

It gave Dean a moment to evaluate Castiel fully. He was actually…really attractive. Dean hadn’t been able to notice it before in the dark alleyway, but now under the hall light, the wild dark hair and solemn blue eyes were striking in their intensity. Daphne had told the truth; the man didn’t have a scent at all. That was weird as hell.

Unsettled, Dean gestured to the living room behind him, “Do you wanna sit down so I can take your statement?”

“Of course, officer.”

Whoops. “Ah.” Dean put his hand out. “Dean Winchester. And you’re Castiel…”

They shook hands, Castiel's grip firm and decisive. “Castiel Allen.” If Dean hadn’t been paying attention, he would have missed the split second pause Castiel took before the surname.

“Are you two married then?” Dean already knew that wasn’t the case.

“No. Family.” Castiel didn’t elaborate.

Knowing not to ask more, Dean gestured to the living room and turned on his heel, leading the way. His cop senses tingled with the urge to unravel the evident mystery, but he had to restrain himself. He was only there to find out what had happened to Krissy and make sure that she was in good hands. While Dean took the couch again, Castiel lowered himself into the armchair.

Dean withdrew his small recorder and turned it on again, setting it on the table between them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually know police procedure, so I made stuff up, btdubs


	3. Lines of Connection

Settling back into the couch, Dean watched as Castiel looked at the recorder and back to Dean. “I already asked you this, but can you state your name for the record, please?”

“Castiel Allen.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Of course.”

Castiel gave the story that Dean expected, since alpha-omega violence never strayed too far from the same basic narrative. He raised an eyebrow when Castiel recounted his self-defense, but otherwise stayed professional, nodding reflexively and asking further questions.

“What is your relationship to the omega?”

“I had never seen her before she came into the diner tonight. But I knew her name. I met her younger brother around the time we first moved here.”

“Oh yeah?”

Castiel nodded, but he didn’t elaborate. Okay then. Castiel’s behavior and answers were perfectly fine, but Dean felt himself growing more and more suspicious as the interview went on. First the stilted speech, the covered scent, and now evasions in his answers. He didn’t like it.

“And the alpha?”

Scowling, Castiel flexed the hand resting on his leg. “I had seen him at the diner before, many times, but I never got his name. He never did anything untoward before this, but he came to sit and watch Daphne quite often. He always left me uneasy.”

The rest of his answers continued to be simple and to the point, and they lapsed into a short silence when Dean ran out of questions to ask. Dean leaned forward and turned off his recorder. “Alright, I think that’s all the questions I need answered. Do you and Daphne have your card with the safe-house license? You don’t have to get them out now, but we might need them later.”

Castiel nodded in response.

That was all he could get for now. Once Dean put away the recorder, he couldn’t help himself from drumming his fingers on the table and sighing. He’d have to wait a couple days for Krissy to be well enough – coherent enough - to talk to him, but until then no more information would be had, no matter how much he itched for it.

 

Back at the station, Dean dredged through the ungodly amount of paperwork he still had to go through until Benny arrived, back from the hospital. Well, most of their paperwork had been computerized at this point, so Dean squinted up from his computer screen when Benny leaned onto the edge of his desk.

“You almost done?” Benny asked, gesturing at his screen.

“Not even close.” Dean said, and finished typing the rest of a sentence before he leaned over the back of his chair and stretched, groaning when his spine cracked audibly. Benny made a face at the sound. “So how’s the perp?” Dean asked, and Benny shrugged.

“On somethin’, apparently. They need to do tests, but they think it was a low dose of Red. He’s been sedated and restrained for now.”

Dean’s head dropped back, “Ughh…that’s just great. New supplier for the college students.”

“Who’s the one that popped his shoulder? Did a mighty fine job of it from what I saw. Shoulda been there when they popped that sucker back into place.”

“Dunno.” Shrugging, Dean turned back to his computer. “Just moved into town. Couldn’t tell what he was. Scent blocker. Without a cover scent.”

“Hmmm. Strange.”

“You’re telling me. Guy was weird.”

“What about the omega? How’s she?”

“Safe and sound. The two from the diner had a licensed omega safe-house, so we took her there.”

Benny gave a sound of surprise. “That worked out well.”

“I’ll say.” Dean replied, and Benny nudged his shoulder with an arm as he stood up straight again.

“I think I’m goin’ home. We can do the rest of this,” he gestured at Dean’s screen, “tomorrow. Don’t stay here too long or Bobby’ll tear ya a new one.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go away.”

After Benny passed him, Dean stared at his computer screen for a bit longer. He really shouldn’t. Dean clicked on the shortcut to bring up the search bar. Why not? He typed Castiel Allen and hit enter. A few seconds later the query was returned. 0 hits. Damn. He'd known that had been a fake name, as weird as it was. Dean couldn’t request and receive more information unless he was working a criminal case on this Castiel.

But they were both in a licensed safe-house. No way would a fake name fly for that. So what the hell?

Maybe they were lying about it being a safe-house. That idea concerned him. Police officers also had access to the safe-house database in case they needed to find a place, quick, for omegas. Dean brought that one up and scrolled through the list for Lawrence. It checked out – it was a real safe-house, with both listed as residents. Things had just gotten interesting.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel glanced up from making the bed to the door where Shawn hovered. “Almost done.” Shawn jerked his head in a quick nod, and Castiel turned back to his work. Smoothing out the covers and picking up the pillows from the floor, Castiel placed them just so before stepping back and putting his hands on his hips. It looked passable enough for a pull-out sofa bed. “It’s all yours,” he told Shawn, who immediately crawled into the covers and sat in the middle, legs crossed. He still looked and smelled miserable.

With everything that had happened to him today, it was understandable.

Shawn had made it back from school to where the two had been squatting only to find an alpha’s scent over upturned belongings, Krissy nowhere to be found. Luckily for Shawn, they had agreed on a safe place to wait for the other if such a thing ever happened, and that’s where Castiel had found him, waiting for his sister in the dark behind the public library. It was a good thing they had met before, or else Shawn would have bolted at the mere sight of an adult coming for him.

Hovering awkwardly for a few moments, Castiel fumbled for something to say before settling on, “If you need anything, you know where my room is.” Shawn hugged a pillow to his chest and nodded again, still silent, and then Daphne walked into the living room.

Seeing a quick escape, Castiel wished them both a good night as he left the room and made his way up the stairs to his room. He shut the door with his foot, then thought better of it and cracked the door open, enough for the light of the outside hall to halo the doorframe. Just in case.

Once he had taken off his outer layers and fallen into bed, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. It stayed stubbornly out of reach. The day’s events kept replaying in his head, against his closed eyelids, sending phantom aftershocks of adrenaline through his system. It had been a long while since he had last needed to fight anyone.

Sighing in frustration, Castiel turned over, trying to arrange himself into a more comfortable position. The hinges of his door creaked once and went silent. Castiel raised his head off his pillow and opened his eyes, squinting at the door.

“Shawn?” he mumbled. What was he doing here? Castiel had thought Shawn would have gone to Daphne’s room instead of his if he needed anything. Maybe Castiel was a more familiar presence, since he had helped Shawn once before.

The door swung in further, revealing Shawn’s small form in the low light. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Castiel sat up a little more in bed, resting on one elbow. “Why not?”

Shawn crept closer to the bed. He took a minute to answer, voice hesitant. “It’s too quiet.”

“Ah.” That really isn’t the real reason, of course. No doubt the two didn’t actually have a bed, let alone two. Shawn was used to sleeping with another body beside him, with Krissy, but she was in her heat. Without another word, Castiel scooted over to make room, throwing back the covers.

Shawn darted in, and Castiel turned to his side, facing away and towards the wall. He felt Shawn scoot in so they were almost back to back. A sharp familiar pang shot through his chest at the feeling of a little body so close, and he screwed his eyes shut.

God, he missed Claire.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo! i'm baaaaack


	4. Student at 32

Castiel woke up to someone poking his cheek. “Hey. Hey, mister. Daphne says to wake up.” Scrunching up his face under the assault, Castiel cracked open an eye to see Shawn already up, bent over him.

“Call me Castiel, Shawn,” he muttered, burying deeper into the covers for a moment.

“Daphne says you have school today. Do you teach?”

Castiel woke up at that, and after some muzzy thinking, muttered some choice curses under his breath. It was Monday morning, wasn’t it? In all the excitement yesterday, he'd forgotten. Admitting defeat on sleeping longer, Castiel sighed and sat up, pulling the covers off. “No. I’m a student.”

“But you’re old.”

“No one’s too old to learn,” Castiel responded, not taking offense. He took a moment to rub the grit out of his eyes, and glanced up when he heard a quick intake of breath. Shawn was staring wide-eyed at Castiel's arms.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Castiel said, sharper than intended. Without another word, Shawn slunk out of the room. Castiel remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a few more moments before he sighed and stood up to make his way to the bathroom. When he caught himself running his hands over the ragged, silvered lines that ran the length of his forearms, Castiel dragged his hands away and averted his gaze from the mirror.

It was never good to linger on them for too long.

After he finished in the bathroom and applied his scent-blocker, Castiel descended the stairs fully clothed and ready for the day. Daphne smiled at him from her place by the counter as he came into the kitchen. Shawn sat at the table, chugging the rest of a glass of orange juice. The plate in front of him only had crumbs left. No doubt Daphne had just fed him more food in this one sitting than he usually ate in a day. “Krissy says she’s fine being left alone for the day, so I’m taking Shawn to school before I go into work. Do you want a ride to campus?”

“No, I’d prefer to walk.” Castiel didn’t think he would ever get used to cars. He passed Daphne to get a granola bar from the cabinet, and she handed him a mug of coffee when he turned back around. “Thank you, Daphne,” Castiel murmured.

“You’re welcome. Okay, Shawn, you ready to go?”

"Yeah," Shawn replied, getting up and taking his dishes over to the sink. Going on his tiptoes, he made to wash them instead of leaving them in the sink until Daphne realized what he was doing.

“Just leave them there for now, Shawn. You’re a guest, you don’t have to do the dishes.” Shawn complied, albeit a bit reluctantly.

Sipping his coffee, Castiel watched them both get ready and leave, raising a hand as they disappeared out to the car. Once he was done, he put the empty coffee cup next to the sink before going to get his own backpack and trenchcoat from the front hall. It was going to be a long day.

Even though it was still early, the morning heat made the walk to campus a little more unbearable than it could have been. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead and dampening the armpits of his shirt. When he arrived on campus, the sheer amount of people in one space made him sweat even more. It was overwhelming. He was used to wide open spaces, sometimes never seeing another person for days on end.

None of the other students milling around gave him strange looks as he walked around the campus, though he couldn't help but think that they were just waiting for him to turn his back on them before they started staring. Since he was a good decade older than the rest of the students, he must have been mistaken for a professor, but that inattentiveness changed when he arrived at his first class. Castiel entered the room a bit late, realizing there was no professor in sight when several heads swiveled in his direction, expectant. Even when he made his way to the very back of the classroom, some of the students still glanced back at him, confused, until they realized he wasn’t their professor.

Ten minutes after the class should have been started, a short man sauntered into the room, bag slung over one shoulder. Castiel looked up only when the man dropped his bag on the desk and turned to face the class, the smile on his sharp face mischievous. “Welcome to college, freshies!” he called, leaning an elbow against the podium.

“If any of you are wondering, this is Class Relations 101, which ALL freshman are REQUIRED to take!” For such a small man, his voice carried well through the large room. “I’ll hand out the syllabus at the end of class, but this first one will be info I’m required by law to teach you, yada yada yada.” He had taken a laptop out of his bag as he had talked and now set it on the podium and connected it to the projector.

The professor turned around and scanned the crowd. “You!” he pointed at a male student, who looked around before pointing at himself. “Yes, you. Come up here and get the projector screen down for me.”

Turning to the rest of the class, he leaned against the side of the podium again, putting a hand on his hip. “Freaking everyone knows the classes, y'know, alpha, beta, and omega, and the one to eight to one ratio, but let’s talk about the three tiers before we move onto the old Hierarchy. Most people are third tier, which means?” He held up a hand to his ear, gesturing with the other to the class. No one spoke up, so he dropped the hand and sighed. “God, you guys _suck_. Fine, third tier is just boring normal people, like _you all right now._ Next, second tier makes up five percent of the population, and they have slightly faster reflexes, healing and strength than the average bear. And the coolest first tier, consisting of less than one percent of the population?” He raised his hand to his ear again.

Someone called out, “Full shifters!”

“Thank _God_. Hope for you guys yet.” The screen behind him flickered to life.

 

* * *

 

 

Jess opened the door shortly after Dean knocked. “Dean!” She drew him into a hug, and Dean caught the faint scent of perfume, just subtle enough to be noticed over her beta scent. It smelled really good.

“Jess,” Dean drawled, drawing back to smile at her, “how’s life?”

“Hectic. But I’m used to it. Keeps me on my toes. Sam’s cooking dinner right now if you’re looking for him.” Her blonde hair flipped over one shoulder as she looked back into the house.

Dean rolled his eyes as she turned back to him. “Of course he is. But I’m actually here to talk to you, not Mr. Homemaker.”

Curious, Jess cocked an eyebrow. “Well then, come on in. Are you on duty right now?” she asked, eyeing his uniform.

“Nah, just got off. I’m curious about somethin’ is all.” Sam appeared behind Jess as Dean stepped into the foyer, likely to see what was keeping his wife. Dean closed the door behind him. “Heya, Sammy.”

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

Dean clutched at his chest in mock hurt. “What? Can’t an older brother check in on-“

“He wants to talk to me.”

He looked at Jess in betrayal and gasped. “Why, I _never_!”

Rolling his eyes, Sam headed back into the kitchen, likely to make something gross like a _salad._ If he wasn’t as enormous as he was, Dean sometimes would’ve been skeptical of Sammy’s alpha status.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Jess asked, leading him back to her in-home office.

“Uh,” Dean took a second to go into cop mode. “I noticed something really strange about one of the omega safe-houses here in town. I just wanted to follow up on it with you since you have access to the information.”

“Dean, you know that’s classified.”

“Would you just check on it for me?” Jess didn’t answer, but once they reached her office she went to the file cabinet in the corner and looked back at him. “Name’s Castiel Allen. Moved here just a few weeks ago?”

Jess stepped away from the cabinet. “Oh, yes, I met him when he and Daphne moved here. They had to check in with me. What about him?”

“He’s using a fake name for the safe-house. Wouldn’t that have disqualified him immediately?”

“Usually, yes. But he went through a lot of thorough testing to make up for it. We do provide services to omegas that want to remain nameless, so we sometimes also make exceptions for the volunteers as well. Castiel is really nice once you get to know him. He-“ She thought better of finishing the sentence, closing her mouth instead.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “He what?”

Jess shrugged. “He was very specific that none of his information be revealed.”

“Ugh, you’re killing me, Smalls.”

“Sorry.” She wasn’t sorry at all.

 

When Charlie opened her door for their Netflix night the next day, she burst out laughing, clutching the door frame for support. Dean scowled at her. “Ha ha, I know, it’s hilarious.” He stepped past her to collapse onto the couch, letting the six pack of beer clunk down on the ground beside him. Once Charlie got over herself, she took a few big breaths, but then chuckled again, wiping her eyes.

“Oh my god, she punched your lights out good! _Please_ tell me Benny took pictures.”

Dean touched his black eye self-consciously and groaned before sliding from a sitting position to a prone one, burying his face in the couch. “I hate you sometimes,” he said, muffled through the fabric.

“No you don’t.”

He groaned again.

“Awww, looks like someone is upset they got their ass handed to them by an old lady during work.”

Dean’s head came up, “Okay, first of all-“

Charlie rolled over the top of the couch to land on top of Dean, knocking the wind right out of him. “Don’t care. Still funny. So we watching this or what?”

“Ugh, yes.”

Neither of them got up.

“You do it.”

“Fine.” Charlie sighed, getting up off of Dean to start the episode. Dean sat up and opened two beers, passing one to Charlie when she sat back down. Her feet wound up over Dean’s lap as they settled in, but he didn’t mind. Once it started, Dean relaxed, feeling the stress melt out of his muscles. It was a mind-numbing action series, just dumb enough to entertain him and just enough science fiction to interest Charlie.

Once it ended, with yet another cliff-hanger, Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He drew it out and unlocked the screen to read the text.

_Omega from Sunday will be able to talk to you tomorrow. –Benny_

Charlie stretched and put her second empty bottle down, eying his phone. “So, for realsies, how’s work? Status still on the down-low?”

“Yeah, trust me, you’ll know when that particular issue hits the fan. Work’s been fine.”

Charlie nodded to his phone. “Is that Benny?”

“Yeah. Follow up on an omega girl that got attacked when she was starting a heat. Luckily nothing really happened and she's fine now, but...” Dean chewed on his lip.

“You have your detective face on.”

“One of the people at the safe-house I took her to is licensed under a fake name. And Jess knew about it, but couldn’t tell me anything. No scent, no real name; it’s driving me insane.”

“What’s this person’s name?”

“Castiel Allen. He-“

Charlie sat up quickly from her sprawl on the couch. “Ohmygod I met him yesterday!”

“Why does everyone know him already?” Groaning, Dean let his head hit the back of the couch, before he jerked his head forward again with a sudden thought. “How the hell did you meet him? You work in the IT services of a college,” Dean asked, incredulous.

Charlie hit his shoulder. “He came in with his laptop! I thought he was a prof when he brought it in, but he’s just a hella old student that goes there. I thought he was a real creeper until he saw my three wolf moon shirt and told me about the mythology behind wolves howling at the moon. It was actually super rad. He’s going there to get a degree in accounting.”

“Huh,” Dean said.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just, that story was a lot more boring than I thought it was going to be.”

Charlie hit him again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments on my writing are always appreciated! actually all comments are. who am i kidding.


	5. Listening In

The next morning, Krissy came down to eat breakfast with the rest of them. It was easy to ignore the still inviting scent of a heat; it would dissipate before too long, probably even before the beta officer Winchester would arrive to talk to Krissy later that day. At first, she didn’t talk, just watched as Daphne served her and Shawn a large breakfast. Shawn looked a lot happier and more at ease with Krissy by his side.

Although she had a heart-shaped face and a beauty mark beneath her eye that promised a sweet temperament, Krissy was all sharp corners and aggressive movements. There seemed to be a bit of bravado there as well, as though she was trying to make up for the weakness and fear she had experienced in her heat. A certain tension grew in the air around the kitchen table as Krissy refused to even look Castiel’s way, and Castiel himself was unsure how to diffuse it, so he kept his head down as he ate. Shawn seemed immune to the atmosphere, but Daphne looked over at Castiel as soon as she noticed. When their eyes met, Castiel nodded at the silent question.

Daphne stood up, “Okay, Shawn. Time for school.” Castiel rose from his chair as well and collected the dirty dishes.

As Shawn was leaving, he went and hugged Krissy, dragging a smile out of her. “Have fun, brat,” she told him, ruffling his hair before he could duck out of it. “Bye now.”

Shawn rolled his eyes and tried to fix his hair. “Bye.”

Castiel waved to Daphne and Shawn as they disappeared into the garage, and waited for the door to shut before starting to load the dishwasher. Although he knew Krissy stood silent in the kitchen behind him, Castiel gave no sign of it. She would start when she wanted. The metallic tinge of adrenaline colored the air, giving him some semblance of warning.

“So, I guess I should be thanking you for saving me.” Her voice, closer than he had anticipated, startled Castiel for a second. When he looked up to the side, Krissy stood right out of arm’s reach, leaning against the kitchen counter, her own arms crossed in front of her. He turned back to the dishes.

“I - no, that is not necessary.”

“And Shawn also told me about how you got him out of trouble a few weeks ago.”

“As I said.”

Krissy grunted noncommittally. A long pause hung between them until she said, “Why are you wearing the scent blocker if you’re an alpha?” A moment’s hesitation gave him away, and Krissy’s eyes widened.

“Holy hell. You really are an alpha. Thought I was just remembering it wrong.”

Castiel debated for a moment on whether or not he should lie. He was a terrible liar. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can find somewhere else to stay until you leave the safe-house.”

Krissy examined him for a long minute, assessing. “Nah. It’s fine. Daphne said you saved her too, and she definitely knows. But just so you know, I don’t trust you even if Shawn and Daphne do.”

“Fair enough.” He turned to face Krissy but didn’t move from his place by the sink. “You don’t owe me anything, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else about my – my status.”

“Why? You’re a freaking alpha, you don’t have to hide anything,” Krissy said with some heat, glaring at him.

“Besides some rather personal reasons, it is much easier to help omegas when they do not see me as another threat,” Castiel replied, moving out of the kitchen into the front hall to shrug on his trenchcoat and grab his backpack. “If you’re done questioning me, I need to get to class. I’ll set the house alarm again, and Daphne and I will both have our cellphones if you need to call us. The officer should arrive after I return from my classes.” Castiel paused in the doorway to await a response, but Krissy only nodded her head once and didn’t say anything else. This conversation was definitely not over, but Castiel could tell it had reached a stopping point. For now.

 

It was a Wednesday, which meant he went first to Class Relations. The professor arrived late again, by only five minutes this time, disheveled in a way that seemed to be usual. He set up the projector while talking to the class. “Okie dokie, I ended last class on the old Hierarchy, so let’s talk about the remaining parts of it in today’s world.” Castiel looked down and tapped his pen against his opened notebook as the professor continued talking. He knew these topics well already. “Any Forest Preserves you might know of, especially the larger ones in the north of the country, are all the property of the old Hierarchy, who are completely separate, both politically and – and-“ the professor trailed off into silence in the middle of his sentence, prompting Castiel to glance up.

The professor was staring directly at him, eyes wide, like he _knew_. Castiel froze, cold dread skittering down his spine. _He_ didn’t recognize the man – couldn’t tell if the professor knew anything about him. No, no one out here did. He was certain of that. But some students were beginning to take notice, looking curiously in the direction their teacher was staring, and the professor broke eye-contact, shaken. “I- uh.” He turned to his laptop, staring at it before he seemed to get his wits back, bringing up another powerpoint on the topic. He cleared his throat nervously. “So, the Forest Preserves. We – um - we broke away from the old Hierarchy around 150 years ago, but they didn’t – they didn’t dissolve completely. Their way of life is pretty archaic compared to today’s society; they still require rites of passage and traditional roles.”

The professor continued talking, not looking up again in Castiel’s direction. That didn’t stop his palms from getting clammy or his heart from racing in anxiety. The longer the class dragged on, the more certain Castiel became certain that somehow, the professor did know something he shouldn’t. He would draw more attention if he left immediately; better to wait it out and leave with a crowd. Time stretched out, Castiel still eyeing the door, until everyone was packing up their things, ready to go. He waited until a good number of students were out of their seats before standing up, head down, and making his way to the door. The professor had made sure to not even glance at him during the class, but now Castiel could see him moving closer out of the corner of his eye.

“Jimmy?”

Castiel’s stomach twisted into knots at the name, but he ignored it, still heading for the door with the rest of the students. Just a bit further…

“Jimmy!” the voice rose, louder and more insistent, before Castiel felt a hand on his arm.

Best pretend he knew nothing. Castiel looked back at the professor, face carefully blank. “I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.”

The professor glanced to the students surrounding them and leaned forward, voice urgent. “Cut the crap, man. How are you alive?”

Castiel tugged his arm out of the professor’s tight grip. “Professor, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name’s not Jimmy.”

“What?” He searched Castiel’s eyes, dumbstruck, and Castiel made sure to hold his gaze for a few moments before glancing back to the exit.

Almost all of the students were gone, the last rush making it to the door. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go.” Castiel said, backing up.

The professor recovered enough to utter a, “Wait!” but Castiel was already out the door.

 

The doorbell rang only a scant half-hour after Castiel got back home from campus. Still jittery, the sudden sound made him jump before he made his way to the door and peered through the side-window. It was the beta officer from last time. Castiel opened the door and the officer’s green eyes fixed on him before darting behind him into the house. A dark bruise framed one eye.

“Hey there. Is Krissy well enough to talk now?”

“Yes, please come in, officer.” He could see the officer’s cruiser parked in their driveway, with another man sitting in the passenger seat. The man looked like he was about ready to take a nap, leaning back in his seat, but he waved when they both looked over. “Would your partner like to come inside as well?”

“Can’t. Alpha.”

“I see. Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

Castiel gestured to his own eye. “It looks like you had an altercation yesterday.”

Officer Winchester colored in embarrassment. “Ah, yes. I’m fine.” Stepping back, Castiel let the policeman pass into the house and closed the door behind him.

“Krissy," Castiel called, voice directed towards the other end of the hallway, "the officer is here to see you.”

Krissy appeared in the threshold of the kitchen, face set, and Officer Winchester nodded to the living room, “After you.” Krissy trudged through the doorway.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you require anything of me.” Castiel said, and the officer nodded distractedly as he passed him in the hall.

“Thanks.”

With that, Castiel retreated into the kitchen. He could barely hear their voices, but it seemed it mostly involved the officer talking to Krissy in hushed tones.

Time dragged on again, but this time Castiel tried to busy himself in the kitchen, just in case either Krissy or the officer needed him nearby. He put away the clean dishes and wiped down the counters, but that only took a few minutes. He made a pot of coffee. Just in case someone wanted any. Soon enough, Castiel ran out of things to do and found himself pausing to lean against the kitchen counter and gaze out the window, lost in thought. The professor. He had known Jimmy, before. What were the chances of finding one of them, here of all places? His hands tightened into fists on the counter in front of him as Castiel let out a breath, trying to dispel some of the tension that such a thought evoked.

The sound of movement in the other room brought him out of his reverie. Castiel turned around at the scuff of footsteps in the hallway, coming towards the kitchen. The officer appeared in the doorway and raised a hand when he saw Castiel.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Castiel asked, trying to be a gracious host. Officer Winchester sighed and rubbed a hand through his short hair, face more troubled than it had been going into the conversation with Krissy.

“Coffee’d be great,” he said, moving more into the room. As Castiel turned to pour him a cup, Officer Winchester leaned against the counter closest to him. “Krissy didn’t want to press charges, and it’s not like it would be successful anyhow, but I did get her to agree to a court order so he can’t come near her again. He’s definitely the one who broke into where they’d been squatting and waited for her, but I guess when he didn’t find her he went out looking for a more available omega.”

Castiel cocked his head as he turned to hand the officer his coffee. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Thanks,” the officer said, coffee in hand. He took a sip and hissed a little when it was too hot. “Well, I’m not sure I told you this, but the assailant had a low dose of Red in his system. An illegal drug. It’s really popular among alphas ‘cause it exacerbates their hormone production and rut instincts. Apparently it’s quite the party drug.”

“But that would make them less able to resist attacking an omega.”

“Exactly.”

“So he was in the diner waiting for Daphne to get off work after he couldn’t find Krissy?”

Officer Winchester nodded. “But that’s not why I came in here. When’s Ms. Allen getting home?”

“In an hour, I believe.”

“Okay…” he seemed to deliberate for a second. “I also had to talk to Krissy about her living situation. In these kinda cases, we’re required to contact Child Services, and things are not looking good on that front.” He sighed in resignation and frowned into his coffee before he continued. “Krissy is on her own; parents dead and looking after Shawn by herself. No friends or relatives to speak of. We talked it out, and it would be in her best interests if she doesn’t go into the foster system, so I’d like to know if you guys’d be interested in being emergency guardians until she can get emancipated.”

Castiel didn’t know what that pertained, but he’d help however he could. “Of course. I have no doubt that Daphne would also agree to this as well.”

Officer Winchester slowly nodded his head.

“What about Shawn? What will happen to him?”

Instead of answering, Officer Winchester rubbed a hand over his eyes and didn’t say anything for a moment. “I don’t know, man. He’d have to go into the system, but Krissy’s seventeen and she could’ve probably gotten custody for him when she turned 18.”

“Could have?”

“They’re not actually brother and sister. Once she was on her own, she dropped off the grid and just picked up another off the streets. But they’re brother and sister in all but blood in my book. I just don’t know what CPS will think about this.” He glanced at Castiel for a second. “If I tell them.”

“Some things are better off staying a secret.”

Suddenly, Castiel had the officer’s full attention. “Hm. I guess.” Castiel had the feeling they weren’t just talking about Krissy anymore. It was time to bow out.

“I’ll go see if Krissy needs anything as well. Excuse me.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Dean got back to the cruiser, Benny woke from his catnap at the sound of the car door opening and closing as Dean slid into the driver's seat. He stretched, making a noise as his back popped. “So, how’d it go?”

Dean just turned the key in the ignition and started the car.

“Huh. That bad?”

“Not much we can do on the attack front. Court order was the only thing I could get her to agree to. Real worried that Child Services is gonna split the two kids up for good once they get a hold of ‘em. They're not actually related.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” With nothing more to add, Dean turned up the music as Benny looked out the window for a while, making the ride to their next stop uneventful. Only when Dean had pulled up to the complex did Benny turn to face him again.

“What about that Castiel? Should we still find out what we can about him?”

Dean only shrugged noncommittally, but Benny’s eyebrows rose.

“Woah there, partner, a change of heart? Did he tickle your fancy?”

“Shut it, Lafitte. It’s not like that.”

Benny grinned like a shark. “Oh, man. This is perfect.”

“You suck.”

“Oh, pretty sure Castiel should do that instead.” Benny drawled, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Dean threw him an unimpressed look. “You keep making those jokes and I’ll feed your cats laxatives.”

“’Ey now, don’t bring my babies inta this. You’re just jealous ‘cause I get the pussy.” Benny waggled his eyebrows.

Dean just gave a long suffering sigh and opened his door. “Fuck it. I give up.” He got out of the car and turned around, bending so he could see Benny, one hand ready to close his door. “You’re dead to me.”

“Love you t-“ Dean shut his door.

 

After work, Dean retrieved his Baby and drove to Sammy’s house. He really needed to stop being their third wheel, but what the hell. It wasn't like they'd ever turned down a get-together with him before, especially if it included a cooked meal from the older Winchester. Parking his Baby in their driveway, he raised an eyebrow at the tiny blue monstrosity of a car also parked there.

He only had to wait a moment after ringing the doorbell before Sammy pulled the door open.

“Have everything?”

“Yup.” Sam motioned him back to the kitchen, papers from work still in hand. Dean didn’t know how he could read while walking without running into anything. “Hey, can you go and tell Jess that you’re here? She’s with a client.”

“Sure thing.” Dean made his way to the end of the hallway, the sound of two voices coming from her office. The door was open just a sliver, allowing him to hear the conversation from outside the room.

“- _stiel_? He’s supposed to be dead! And I just _happen_ to have him in one of my classes at KU?”

Slowing down, Dean paused with his hand almost ready to push open the door.

“I don’t know what else to tell you. He passed all the tests, and he has the same rights to privacy as you do.” Jess responded.

“Don’t care. I thought no one would find me! One more thing like Novak and I am outta here.” Movement inside alerted Dean, so he shuffled his feet on the carpet and rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Jess?”

The door opened, revealing a short man with wavy hair, but he only glanced cursorily at Dean before he passed him. Jess looked pissed. “Listening to all my conversations, Dean?”

Dean tried to look contrite. “Sorry. Sam told me to come get you.”

Sighing, Jess just waved him off. “Be there in a minute.”

He nodded and closed the door, absorbing this new information. With a meeting like that, the man that had just passed him was in the omega protection program. Why the hell was he so concerned that Castiel had seen him? He couldn't be a threat if he could live in a safe-house. Every time Dean heard the name, he'd gotten another piece of a puzzle that didn't goddamn fit together.

And now he had a full name this time. Castiel Novak.

Well, fuck.

 


	6. Dreaming

Castiel saw it before the kid did. It was a habit he had picked up during his time on the streets, gauging people for the right opportunity, but only when hunger had carved out enough of his belly to take the risk. This cashier seemed the type that didn’t suffer lawbreakers well, no matter how pathetic they looked. When Castiel saw the little boy, no more than eight years old, furtively grabbing packages of food off of the shelves and stuffing them in his pockets, he glanced up to see that the cashier had his own hard gaze already fixed on the kid. The cashier looked like an alpha, all self-righteous anger and entitlement issues, and Castiel moved a bit too late to intercept as the kid headed to the door behind another lady.

Heavy handed, the cashier grabbed the small form by the back of the neck. “Where do you think you’re going?”

All the color drained from the kid’s face as he looked up, eyes wide. “I, uh, I was-“ he stammered.

“I don’t want excuses, you little rat. Unless you got money to pay for-“

“There you are!” Castiel said, striding up to the two. Not expecting the interruption, the cashier and the boy both turned their gazes to him. Castiel glared at the cashier’s hand. “As much as I’m grateful that you found my son, you can take your hands off.”

The cashier hesitated, looking between the two, but finally let go of the kid, “Sorry, I thought-“

“I think we’re ready to check out our things now.” Castiel went on, cutting him off. He turned to the kid as the cashier moved behind the counter again. “Did you find what you wanted?”

Luckily, the boy caught on fast. “Yeah.” He took his meagre haul out of his pockets put them onto the counter, along with Castiel’s things.

Making sure to appear unhurried, Castiel paid for all of it and lead the kid out the door, neck prickling with awareness as the cashier stared after them. They both walked down the sidewalk until they were out of sight of the store’s windows, and then the kid turned around, looking like he would bolt at any moment.

“What do _you_ want?” he hissed at Castiel, still hovering on the balls of his feet, ready to escape.

Castiel still held the plastic bag containing both of their items, so he dropped to his haunches with a sigh to sift through it and take out his things. “I don’t want anything. But you want these, don’t you?” Castiel held up the food that the kid had tried to steal, who looked hungrily back at it. “You should do this when the elderly lady is behind the counter. If she catches you, she won’t call the police like the other two cashiers.

“And you should be more subtle about it.” Castiel said, pulling a chocolate bar out of a pocket and almost smiling at the kid’s surprised expression. He put the chocolate bar and the twenty dollar bill still left in his wallet into the plastic bag before tossing it over to the kid, knowing the boy would bolt if he got any closer. It landed with a thud near his feet, and the kid bent down to retrieve it quickly, as though it would jump away if he was too slow.

“What’s your name?”

“…Shawn.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Shawn.” Castiel told him gravely. He rose from off the ground and brushed the dirt off of his pants at the knees. The boy didn’t have a specific scent of his own just yet, but he could just make out the smell of another, an omega, on him. “If you need any help or a free meal, go to the diner on Vermont and 9th street and ask for Castiel.”

The kid didn’t say anything else, just shifted on his feet, clutching the bag to his skinny chest. Castiel nodded once and turned to walk away.

“Thank you.” Shawn said, quiet. His voice sounded strange.

“It’s no problem.” Castiel replied, smiling back over his shoulder. His smile froze in place. Familiar blue eyes met his gaze, and long blond hair had replaced the short brown of before.

Claire was in her blue dress, the fabric over her knees stained brown with dirt. Golden hair haloed around her head, wild and tangled, and her terrified gaze met his for a heart-stopping moment.

“Don’t let them take me.” she whispered, but Castiel heard it as clear as day. He spun in place, but the earth shifted under his feet and he fell to his knees and hands, hitting dark wet loam instead of grey concrete. When he scrambled to his feet again, Claire was gone. In her place only a black night remained, a weak filter of moonlight wavering through the trees of the old forest.

Not again.

He didn’t yell for her, knew they would hear him if he did. Crouching low, he ran through the trees, suddenly barefoot. Castiel knew these woods, could run them with his eyes shut, and he ran between the twisted trunks as fast as he could, relying on memory rather than sight. His foot encountered an unexpected shape and he tripped over it, falling again onto the ground.

Wet leaves plastered themselves to his front, and Castiel grimaced at the slickness as his hands slipped for purchase. When he turned to look at the obstacle, he stilled in place. A face stared back at him, unblinking, cheek pressed into the leaves. Castiel made a strangled noise in his throat and crawled away as fast as he could, stumbling upright when he found dry ground. His heart beat a tattoo in his ears, thundering too loud to hear anything else. Shakily, he dried his hands on his clothes, and knew he was staining it red.

He would be too late. He would always be too late.

Another voice behind him made him turn around, already dreading the next scene. Castiel came face to face with himself when he turned. His mirror had his hands tied behind his back, and Uriel had a hand next to his throat. The air reeked of fear. “Please,” he begged, “don’t. Don’t do this.”

Uriel only smiled, and shocked blue eyes met glowing red one last time before Uriel slit his throat. Blood sprayed forward as his mirror made a horrible gurgling noise, and Castiel closed his eyes too late, warm red droplets spattering his face, getting in his eyes.

_Getting in his eyes- it was in his eyes! – the red –_

Castiel clawed himself out of his dream, writhing in his sheets. Reorienting himself, he took stock as he gasped for breath, and put a hand on his chest as if he could physically calm his racing heart.

He was alone. Shawn now slept in Krissy’s bed now that her heat was over. He was safe here. No doubt the encounter with the professor had stirred up bad memories, but nothing else had come of it. Not yet, anyways.

A cold line of sweat slid down the side of his temple as he listened to the house. No one else stirred. Castiel put a trembling hand up to his neck, feeling the raised line of scar tissue for a brief moment before dropping his arm down again. Letting out a shaky exhale, Castiel disentangled himself from his sheets, swinging his legs off of the bed. He glanced at his clock, and the red numbers glared back at him. Four in the morning. He wouldn't be able to fall back asleep before it was time to get up. Castiel flexed his toes in the carpet and stood up, making his way slowly to the bathroom. He really needed coffee.

 

Pausing at his laborious typing, Castiel sighed and admitted defeat. He needed help. Again. The damnable contraptions called laptops were terribly hard to get used to. Daphne had showed him the basics, but she wasn’t here now. He had only seen her briefly that morning after his nightmare, but he’d had to walk to campus early to switch his Class Relations to another time, one in which the professor didn’t know the name of Jimmy. Daphne had stayed home to meet with Child Protective Services, and to apply for emergency and full guardianship for both children. She could do what she wanted; she owned the diner, and the house, and would not be hurting for money anytime soon. And now, what Daphne wanted now included giving both Krissy and Shawn a roof over their heads and enough food to feed an army. No doubt she soon would rope Castiel into helping Krissy get a GED, since he had gotten his own not so long ago.

Daphne had never been able to stop herself from helping whomever came across her path.

Castiel packed up his things and put his laptop in his backpack, throwing it over his shoulder as he made his way through the library to the IT services area. Maybe he could find Charlie to help him again. She seemed to not mind his socially awkward ways overmuch. The young man at the service desk looked up as Castiel approached.

“Hello. Is –is Charlie here today?” Castiel asked, hesitant.

The young man just nodded and jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the room behind him. The workers all had individual cubicles, and Castiel already knew where Charlie’s was. He thanked the young man and made his way back to her station. All sorts of strange paraphernalia covered her space; plastic figurines of humans and monsters, posters of the same, pinups of very beautiful ladies in very…suggestive poses. Castiel wondered if the last ones were even allowed in a workplace.

Charlie herself sat in front of her computer screen, typing away at an incredible speed. She faced away from his direction, large headphones covering her ears, so Castiel knocked gently on her cubicle wall, then harder when there was no reaction. Debating for another second, he finally leaned over and waved a hand in her line of vision, and she jumped so far she came off her chair. Charlie fumbled her headphones off and put a hand on her chest, beta scent spiking with adrenaline.

“Oh my god, you scared the bejesus out of me! You’re like a no scent ninja, man.”

“Apologies, Charlie. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

When Charlie had caught her breath, she swiveled in her chair to face him fully. “Whew. Okay, what do you need, Castiel? Having more problems?”

Castiel shuffled a foot. “Yes, a professor mentioned a site to do the online assignments. I don’t know how to find or access it. The first assignment is, uh, due tomorrow.”

“Alright, sure thing,” Charlie said, gesturing to the empty chair in her cubicle. “It’s super easy to do. Pull out your laptop and I’ll show you.”

He did as he was told, sitting down and extracting his laptop. “I apologize if this is a very stupid request. I only got a laptop a few months ago. I’m still getting used to it.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose and she whistled in surprise. “Wow! Doing well for only a few months under your belt. But, seriously man, were you like, living under a rock or something before?”

“A bridge actually.”

An awkward silence descended. Charlie finally cleared her throat when she got to the college’s website. “Okay, so all you have to do is go to the toolbar at the top of the home page and then click on Moodle from there.” She clicked it and a login page came up. “Do you know your student login and password?”

“I believe so, yes.” When she gestured to the laptop, he reached over her and typed it in.

“I’ll show you how the site works so you don’t have to fumble around more.”

“Thank you, Charlie.” The relief in his voice was apparent.

“No biggie.” She smiled at him. “I’ll give you my cell after this, so you can call anytime you have trouble with this thing. I’ll be your techie Yoda.”

Castiel only squinted in confusion at her.

“Oh my god. How long were you living under that bridge?” She winced. “Don’t answer that. Tell you what. You need to be educated in the ways of the modern world, my friend, and I am up for the challenge. You can impart some of your awesome mythology knowledge on me and we’ll call it square. How ‘bout that?”

Struck speechless for a moment, Castiel could only stare at her. “…That would mean the world to me, Charlie.”

She patted his arm awkwardly. “No need to get emotional, buddy. Save that for Star Wars.”

 


	7. To the Bar!

Dean shrugged on his leather jacket and checked himself out in the mirror for a moment. A little discoloration remained around his eye, but thanks to his quick healing, the majority had faded away. It had felt awesome to just hang out in civvies all day and not have to do anything but entertain himself. Not that he hated the uniform or his job, but nothing compared to worn jeans and a ratty old T-shirt on a slow, warm day. Dean checked his phone again, but there were still no new texts from Charlie. He frowned at the screen. She’d worked today, since it was a Friday, but he knew she was home – he’d seen her car in the parking lot after he got back from a grocery run. Phone off usually meant she was watching a movie at her apartment, but he was always invited. And she was definitely not getting any with her long distance relationship with Gilda. Well, whatever. They lived in the same apartment complex, so he’d just go and knock on her door before leaving for the Roadhouse.

As the last Friday he’d have off for a while based on their staggered schedules at work, Dean was obligated to make the most of it. That usually meant a trip to the Roadhouse, but he really didn’t want to go on his own. Sam and Benny were with their ladyfriends and Jo couldn’t go near her mother without inciting an alpha stand-off, so his last hope lay with Charlie. He’d even tried to cajole Charlie into going with the premise of visiting Ash; they always liked getting science boners over computer things, but she still hadn’t replied.

After he grabbed his keys, Dean exited his apartment and descended down one flight of stairs, making his way to the very end of the hallway to knock on Charlie’s door. He could hear the muffled sound of the television and Charlie’s startled laugh, and he shifted on his feet. Was there someone else in the apartment?

He only had to wait a moment before Charlie answered the door in her Star Wars shirt. But that meant-

“You’re watching Star Wars without me? What is wrong with you?” Now that he knew what it was, the call of a Wookiee filled the air accusingly.

Charlie blinked in surprise before guilt crossed her features. Stepping almost into the hallway, she half-way closed the door behind her. “Uh, don’t get mad.”

“About Star Wars? Chill, I’m just-“ he trailed off, thinking, before he narrowed his eyes at Charlie. “Wait, who are you watching this with?” He inhaled, but only could smell Charlie’s regular beta scent.

“Castiel?” Charlie ventured, scrunching up her face a little in apprehension of Dean’s reaction.

“Friggin’ flasher coat Castiel? _Really_?”

Charlie flapped her hands at him. “Dean, s _hh._ Literally just beyond this door.”

“Is this because I told you about-“

“No!” Charlie hissed at him. Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “…Okay, yes, maybe a little.”

“Charlie.” he groaned.

“Not the main reason, alright? I can’t resist a good mystery, but Castiel is really entertaining anyways. And he’s, like, a freaking alien! Dude, he only got a laptop a couple months ago, and he’s _never_ watched a movie before. _In his entire life_. I decided I’d introduce him to modern society.”

“Charlie, he could be a serial killer for all we know! He uses a fake name!”

“Dean, _I_ use a fake name. In case you’ve forgotten,” she replied, a bit offended.

Whoops. Dean winced at that reminder, chastised. “Sorry.”

“Whatevers, Dean. Point being, it doesn’t mean he’s a bad dude. Also, pretty sure he was homeless before all this. Sounds like he’s had as rough a time as us.” She leaned against the door frame and studied him. “Changing the subject. Why did you drop by my humble abode? Looks like you’re going out.”

“Came to see if you’d go to the Roadhouse with me.”

Her look turned calculating. “…Only if Castiel’s invited too. We were at the final ceremony scene, so movie’s probably done.”

Son of a bitch. “Charlie…” Dean whined. “You’ll go and have fun with Ash, and I’ll be the one babysitting Mr. Roboto.”

“C’mon Dean, have you noticed he’s hanging out with _me_ on a Friday? He doesn’t have any other friends. Take pity on him just this once.” Charlie turned on the puppy-dog eyes.

“…Fine.”

“ _And_ I need 15 minutes to get ready.”

“10 minutes.”

“Deal.”

Fuck.

Charlie opened her door and walked backwards into her apartment, gesturing for Dean to follow her in. Hesitating, he considered just avoiding this altogether, but he eventually followed her into the darkened apartment, closing the door behind him. Charlie had called it; the credits were rolling when Dean joined Charlie in the living room. She turned on the lights, and Dean surveyed the living room. Charlie’s movie snacks were strewn across the table, mountain dew cans open. Castiel sat at the far end of the couch, elbows on his knees and fingers laced together, and he straightened upright when he caught sight of Dean.

“Officer Winchester.” Obviously surprised, Castiel looked between the two of them, wary until Charlie caught his attention by waving a dismissive hand.

“Ugh, don’t call him that. He’s not on duty right now. Dean’s a friend; came by to see if I wanted to go to the Roadhouse bar. You know, what young, normal people usually do on Friday nights.”

Castiel made to get up off the couch. “Of course. I’ll leave immediately so you-“

“I’m inviting you along, Castiel. I’m not gonna kick you out.” Charlie told him, exasperated, but with a grin on her face. Castiel stopped moving and looked back up at her. “Would you like to come to the Roadhouse with us? You can say no.”

He thought for a moment, and his eyes flicked to Dean. “If I am not imposing, and Off - Dean does not mind.”

When Charlie turned her gaze to Dean, he had to force a smile. “Uh, no, I don’t mind at all.”

Charlie clapped her hands together. “Perfect! I’m gonna get ready. You guys can wait in here while I change.” With that, she bounced out of the room, no doubt cackling evilly under her breath as she abandoned Dean to his fate.

Dean hovered for a moment before giving up and sitting in the closest armchair by the door. The credits had ended, and the title screen that started looping every thirty seconds soon became unbearable. Dean leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote, gesturing at the screen. “Mind if I...?”

After a beat, Castiel shook his head. Dean turned it off, thankful until he realized that he had plunged the room into an even more awkward silence. Fidgeting, Dean looked over at Castiel. The man in question was looking down at his lap, fiddling with the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt. Dude looked like he could actually watch paint dry and find it enjoyable, but Dean was getting antsy. His leg bounced up and down, restless, before Dean decided he had to say something.

Small talk?

“So,” Dean said abruptly, and Castiel turned his head towards him. “You’ve really not seen Star Wars before?”

“No.”

Silence again. Goddammit.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.”

Jesus Christ. This was like pulling teeth.

“…What did you like about it?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side this time, considering. “It was confusing, but it had very interesting concepts and ideas. Charlie was very adamant about showing me this movie after I told her I’d never even heard about it.”

“Did you meet Charlie at KU?”

“Yes, I’m getting my accounting degree there.” For a man who could take down an alpha with his bare hands, Castiel seemed incredibly… _boring_. It was completely throwing Dean for a loop. _This_ was the same man Jess couldn’t him give any info on?

“Huh. So did you move here to go to school?”

“No, Daphne inherited the diner from her uncle and we both saw the opportunity.”

Looking to the side, Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. No harm in a bit of questioning, right? “How did you meet Daphne anyways?”

“I rescued her from an alpha when he attacked her in the streets one night, made sure she got home safe. I had been living on the streets at that point, but when she saw me a week later, she returned the favor and offered me a place to stay.”

“Sounds like you’ve been saving people left and right, huh?”

Taking his throwaway comment seriously, Castiel stared hard at Dean. “I’ve been trying. It’s what you do as an officer, isn’t it? Helping people, putting their safety before your own.”

Okay, this was getting uncomfortable again.

“Alrighty, I’m ready to go!” Charlie called from the hallway. Thank God.

 

When they arrived at the Roadhouse, Ellen nodded at them from behind the bar, already busy with the beginnings of the weekend crowd. Since it had yet to really fill up, they were able to snag a booth, and Charlie and Castiel scooted in. Dean leaned over and knocked the table with a knuckle, catching their attention.

“Just the usual, Charlie?” Charlie nodded, so Dean turned to Castiel. “And what’s your poison?”

Confused, Castiel looked over to Charlie and back to Dean. “Poison?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Alcohol, man.”

“I’ve never really had the occasion to form a preference.”

“You’re like my age. Please tell me you’ve been drunk at least once.”

Silence.

Dean and Charlie looked at each other, wide-eyed. “Charlie, no.”

“Dude, _yes_.”

 

Dean made his way over to Ellen, and she finished up with her current customer and made her way over when she caught sight of him again. Dean smirked at the other customers waiting.

“Hey, Dean, what can I getcha? The usual?” Ellen asked, putting her elbows on the bar.

“Yeah, for me and Charlie. But I also need somethin’ to get someone hammered for the first time.”

She laughed at that. “Dean Winchester, are you corrupting another soul?”

Dean held up his hands. “Hey, it was Charlie’s idea.”

“Where is this person?” Dean pointed back to their booth, where Charlie and Castiel seemed to be in deep discussion, and Ellen hummed in thought.

She bent down and pulled a large bottle from underneath the counter, pushing it across the bar along with their two beers. Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise. Yeah, that would _definitely_ take the stick out of Castiel’s ass. “This should do it. You be careful now.”

“Yes, _Mom.”_

“You shut your mouth, boy,” she scolded, looking stern, but the corners of her mouth twitched up in amusement.

Rolling his eyes, Dean just grabbed the bottles and turned from the counter.

“Oh, and Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re paying for those.”

“ _Ugh_.”

 

The empty bottle landed on the counter with a click. Charlie busted out laughing.

Dean put his head in his hands, unbelieving. “How is this possible?”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, Castiel made a face. “That was unpleasant.”

Ash clapped Dean on the shoulder, having made time to see this spectacle after coming over to talk to Charlie. “Damn, where did you find this dude, amigo?”

They were two hours in and Castiel had already blown them all out of the water. Charlie and Dean had kept it slow, making sure Castiel didn’t get too drunk, too fast, but once he hadn’t shown any signs of approaching intoxication, it had gotten intense.

And then Dean had dared him to drink the last third of it in one go.

Castiel held up one finger, a look of concentration on his face, and they all watched him with trepidation. “I think I’m starting to feel something.” They all watched him for a second more. He belched.

Even Ash started laughing. “Next one’s me!” he crowed, racing to the bar.

 

Everything turned a bit blurry after that, though Dean had enough sense left in him to toss his keys to Ellen.

“-So then, pow! She just socks him right in the face!” Charlie sighed and leaned back, bumping shoulders with Dean. “God, I would’ve paid money to see that. Benny almost couldn’t tell me the story, he was laughing so hard.”

“Thank you for tellin’ everyone. Just what I needed.” Dean told her, trying and failing to ignore Castiel, who was actually _smiling_ at Dean. Ever since they’d been approaching their goal of getting Castiel drunk, he’d been staring more and more. Specifically at Dean. But hell, at this point in the game, Dean couldn’t even bring himself to care. He loved attention. Just not from stories concerning soul-crushing embarrassment. “I think I need another one of this” he grabbed the nearest almost empty glass of – something – he wasn’t sure what it was at this point – “to make it through that story.”

Luckily, Charlie turned her attentions to Castiel as Dean downed the rest of – oh god that was straight vodka – determined to even the playing field. “Any embarrassing scuffles you wanna share with the class?”

That dimmed Castiel’s smile considerably. “I – uh, no, I don’t have any embarrassing fighting stories.”

“What about just embarrassing stories? No offense, but you’re weird enough to have some pretty good ones,” Charlie wheedled. “How ‘bout-“ she wiggled her eyebrows, “sex stories?”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus, Charlie. Gettin’ right down to it, aren’t’cha?”

“What? It’s a free country.” She turned back to Castiel. “So?”

Castiel shrugged after a beat. “I’ve never-“

“No no no - don’ tell me-” Dean said, leaning forward in his seat, steadying himself on the edge of the table. “You’ve _never_ -?”

Charlie had taken a moment to prepare herself, but now she burst out, “YOU’VE NEVER HAD SEX!?”

Castiel shrugged again, shaking his head.

“But you look-“ she waved a hand in Castiel’s general direction. “-like that shouldn’t be possible.”

Squinting, Castiel tilted his head. “Was that a flirtation?”

“What? No! I play for the other team.”

When Castiel still looked confused, Dean clarified. “She’s a big lesbian.”

“ _Thank you_.” Charlie told him.

“But seriously, how has no one, uh, bumped uglies with you?” Dean asked Castiel, giving him his own once-over. Definitely not half-bad. Especially with the opened collar and rumpled tie that Castiel had started tugging on a little bit ago, complaining that it was 'too warm in here'.

Castiel said something under his breath, too quiet to hear.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been busy with other things.” Castiel said louder this time, petulant.

If Dean had been just a hair drunker than he currently was, he would’ve been that person and asked what Castiel was, exactly. Was he really a beta? An omega even, with that scent-blocker? But that was the equivalent of someone whipping out their dick in public.

Dean still had _some_ propriety left in him.

“What about” Dean made a suggestive motion with one hand “greasing the pipes? Y’know, takin’ matters into your own hands.”

“Eugh, not an image I want in my head, Dean,” Charlie said before Castiel could respond, scrunching her face up as she looked up from her phone.

“Who’re you textin’?” Dean asked, forgetting the topic altogether as he leaned over into Charlie and poked her shoulder.

“Ride back home. I know people. I am a queen, and they obey me.”

“Misusing your DM status again?”

“Yup.”

“Mmm, I like it. You’re a little rebel.” His head ended up in Charlie’s lap at the end of the sentence, and Charlie petted his hair. He got a bit flirty when he was drunk, so what?

 

Fifteen minutes later, the three musketeers more or less wobbled out of the bar, even though Castiel “didn’t get that reference”. Ash saluted them out, and Ellen shook her head when they waved at her. When a white car pulled up in front of them, Charlie waved at the driver. “Alright, everyone in! Oh, and shotgun.”

Dean groaned at that and found himself almost falling into the backseat with Castiel when they managed to get the door open. In such close quarters, he finally noticed that Castiel had pushed up his sleeves, revealing silvery scars along his forearms, a particularly deep one on the inside of his left elbow.

“Woah, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, and he grabbed his arm to look at them more closely, but Castiel pulled away, looking more sober than he had a minute before.

Personal space, right, that was a thing. Dean pulled back a little. “Sorry, shoulda asked first.” But then he inched forward again. “But can I see?”

Cas looked at him for a long moment. “Alright.” He offered his left arm, and Dean grabbed his elbow and turned his forearm to see ragged lines of old scars marring the tanned skin.

“Dude, these’re awesome!” Dean traced the shiny scar tissue, starting from his wrists and ending in the crease of his elbow. “Did’ja get into a fight with a bear or somethin’?”

“Or something.”

“Hey, keep your hands to yourselves back there!” Charlie called, before giggling.

“Oh, you think you’re _so_ funny, Charlie.” Dean replied, but he let Cas’ arm go.

 

They probably caused an unholy racket climbing up the flight of stairs to get to Charlie’s apartment, but they were way too drunk to care. It took all three of them to manage unfolding the pull out sofa bed, and then Charlie pushed Cas into it, who easily lost his balance and fell onto the mattress. Dean came back with blankets and pillows just in time to see it happen, and threw a pillow at Cas’ head just to participate. It hit him square over the face, but Castiel only took it and turned over, placing it under his head and closing his eyes. Actually, lying down looked good right now. Dean was really tired all of a sudden.

He suddenly found himself stumbling over to the other side of the bed and collapsing face first onto the sheets. Dean felt Charlie nudge his shoulder. “Your apartment is one floor up, Dean. Get your butt up there.”

“No. Too far.” He should probably listen to Charlie, as she remained the most sober at the moment, but he just wanted to sleep. Dean’s eyes slid closed until Charlie shook him awake again. He batted her hand away grumpily. “Lemme ‘lone.”

Charlie asked Castiel something, and he replied, voice rumbling through the mattress, and then Dean was out like a light.

 


	8. In the Morning

The first thing Dean wanted when he first woke up was a quick death. His head throbbed with every heatbeat, and the fact that his mouth tasted like a small animal had crawled in there to die did not help the queasiness roiling around in his stomach. It wasn’t the worst hangover he’d ever had, but that wasn't saying much.

Jesus, he didn’t want to be awake right now. He kept his eyes closed and tried to wiggle into a new more comfortable position in his bed, hoping to delay the inevitable. Something stopped him from moving. Wha-?

He heard a click and cracked one eye, disoriented. He could only smell Charlie’s clean beta scent in the room, meaning Dean had fallen asleep in her apartment. Sure enough, when his eyes focused, he saw Charlie standing to the side of the room, gleefully holding her phone in his direction. Why was she taking a picture? And why was he sleeping on her pull out couch when his bed was-

A puff of warm air against the sensitive stretch of his neck made him still in place.

Oh god.

Jerking his head up and off the pillow, Dean almost gave himself whiplash trying to look over his shoulder to see the damage. Castiel’s arm was wrapped around his waist, curling across his chest, and Dean could feel Castiel's legs against the backs of his thighs. The only small mercy was that they were completely clothed, lying on top of the covers. Castiel grumbled at the movement against the back of Dean’s neck, but stayed asleep, arm flexing slightly as though to bring him in closer. Oh fuck. He was the little spoon. His head snapped back to Charlie, headache forgotten as he saw his social death coming for him in the form of that damned picture.

“Charlie!” he hissed. “No!”

She ducked out of the doorway, vanishing from sight, and Dean could hear her muffled laughter receding down the hallway. Thinking as fast as he could through his pounding headache, Dean picked up Castiel’s draped arm with as little contact as possible and untangled himself from the position. Once he rolled off the bed onto the floor, Dean chanced one quick look back over the top of the mattress to see if he had woken Castiel, but the man only frowned in his sleep and clutched at the empty space before settling again.

Standing up turned out to be a very bad idea. He grabbed the doorframe and took a second to recover, head splitting and his stomach protesting the sudden movements. No time! He moved into the hall, but Charlie was long gone.

“Charlie!” Dean raised his voice a little louder. “I will hurt you! Get back here!”

The sound of a door shutting was her only response.

Dean let out a string of curses in his head. She had barricaded herself behind a locked door, giving her the time she needed to completely ruin him and weather the repercussions, but he could probably break down the door if he tried hard enough. He was seriously considering it until his butt vibrated.

Taking out his forgotten phone from of his pocket, Dean eyed the closed door once more before he swiped the screen to show a new text from Benny.

_Movin fast - whens the wedding?_

Accompanying that was the dreaded picture itself - Castiel spooning the ever-loving shit out of him from behind. Charlie had even managed to capture Dean's open mouth, drooling all over the pillow smashed under his face.

He closed his eyes and knocked his phone against his throbbing forehead. Maybe if he hit himself with it hard enough, this whole morning would just - go away.

Plodding over to Charlie’s shut bedroom door, Dean could only lay on the ground in front of it and wait for death to take him. “Charlie, why must you do this to me?” he groaned. He knew exactly who she had sent this picture to, and his social humiliation had now been completed. First a physical altercation with a pissed-off grandma, now this. He was way too hung-over for this shit.

“You make it too easy, dude.” Charlie replied through the door. After a moment she opened it a crack to find him in his pathetic pose. She took pity on him. “Get off the floor, you heathen. I’ll make breakfast and coffee.”

 

After peeing like a racehorse and brushing the taste of eau dead animal out of his mouth, Dean felt marginally better, though the pills Charlie had given him had yet to kick in. As Charlie moved around the kitchen, Dean slumped in one of the highchairs at the kitchen island, regretting his life choices. His phone lit up like a Christmas tree as friends and family had a field day with the picture. It had even reached _Bobby_. Luckily they knew better than to send it to the people who weren’t in the loop.

Speaking of. “Hey, Charlie, do I smell?” Dean asked, paranoid that his cover scent might have faded too much during the night. Charlie paused and walked over into his space to sniff the air.

“You’re good. You still smell like a douchey beta.”

Dean slouched back into his seat. “Thanks.”

Charlie nodded, and he watched, head in hand, as she started the coffee and bacon. Castiel had yet to wake up, but Dean suspected the smell of food and coffee would rouse him soon enough.

Ugh. He still couldn’t believe his drunk self had thought it acceptable to sleep in the same bed with a man he had literally met a week ago. Well, acquaintance. Okay, yes, it had been a couple years since he had slept with anyone, both the innocent and not so innocent kind, and not to say that he didn't have his fair share of sex with absolute strangers, but - context. It was too risky here. If someone found out he was an omega during sex or close contact of any sort, he was _really_ fucked. It had been easier before John had died in his accident, traveling across the States, where he could remain anonymous and never deal with the fallout from such quick hookups. Word got around a town like this, and since he planned on staying around for a while, it was not something he was too eager to do.

“So, have you figured it out yet?” The question brought Dean out of his reverie.

“Figured what out?” Charlie glanced back over her shoulder to the door, and Dean realized. “Mr. Comatose?” Assessing, Dean looked Charlie up and down. “No way you figured anything out.”

Charlie only hummed in response.

Wracking his brain, Dean couldn’t think of anything else besides his trump card – the last name of Novak. He was still debating on whether or not to try another search on the name. Maybe something had slipped past his radar when he was drunk. He vaguely remembered the scars now that he thought about it. “Wait, did he tell us something last night? I don't remember.”

“Sorta. I’m just awesome. I know where he’s from.”

“No you don’t.”

"Yeah-huh. You could guess it too if you weren’t so dumb.”

“Shut up.” Dean replied, but his mind was trying to put it together. Charlie had always been too smart for her own good; it stood to reason she really had figured something out.

They heard movement from the hallway, and sure enough, Castiel shuffled zombie-like into the room, only permitting a curt nod to both before heading over to the coffee pot. He looked disheveled all to hell, dress shirt untucked, wild hair sticking in all directions, and stubble darkening his jaw. But for a man who had been pretty much black-out drunk for the first time ever, Castiel was behaving suspiciously well. Getting out of bed without any prompting? Not projectile vomiting into the sink? How was that possible? They'd put enough alcohol in the man to put down a rhino.

God, if he didn’t know any better, Dean would’ve thought the guy had a tolerance of a Tier 1, but-

But he didn’t know any better. It would make sense. The reflexes from the night they'd met, the ungodly tolerance, scarring from wounds that looked like it would’ve killed a weaker man. But that was one in a million chance of being a T-1 unless-

“Huh.” Dean said. Charlie made a gesture with her arm, _well there you go_ , as Castiel squinted at the both of them.

It made sense that Charlie would realize it within a few days. Most people wouldn’t see the obvious signs and connect the dots; technologically impaired, no knowledge of modern culture but extensive knowledge of old myth and lore, stilted speech and behavior – it all pointed to a Preserver. Charlie had always been interested in them, and so had Sammy for that matter.

But they didn’t usually interact with the rest of the world, let alone live in it. They had retreated to the Forest Preserves, completely unconcerned with everything outside their borders, and away from most modern technology and customs. Some people still thought that the Old Hierarchy was still the best system, and their simple way of life of living in the woods had taken on an almost romantic quality. It made for great stories; whole packs running through the woods in wolf form, transforming back only in their villages and towns. They still had a lot of lingering power in the new government, a couple of alpha representatives were given permission by the Old Hierarchy to leave their territory and ‘advise’ this society. Dean thought they were classist assholes – only Tier 1 outsiders were ever allowed in, and they had to totally conform to the social norms, which was why no Tier 1 omega would ever join and give up the freedoms and status they had outside the Preserves.

It wasn’t usually a problem. Most of all the Tier 1’s on the continent lived and died in the Forest Preserves, with only rare anomalies being born outside their borders. Many believed it was natural selection, since only T-1s could transform completely into a wolf form, which gave them an edge in the wilderness, with T-2s following closely behind. The Old Hierarchy looked down on T-3s, who had no enhanced abilities at all, and many of them did not survive the brutal rites of passage. Most of the modern society was made of T-3s, but they made up only a thin sliver of the population in the Preserves.

As a Tier 2, Dean had enhanced senses, strength, healing – the works. It had given him the edge needed to be hired as a police officer to overcome his omega status. Dean had never even met a T-1 before; he was pretty sure Castiel would be like a T-2 on steroids. It also meant that Cas could freaking turn into a full wolf, and that was _so cool_. Dean wondered if Sam knew, then decided he didn’t. No way Sammy could contain his geek if he ever found out he could talk to a real Preserver.

Still trying to absorb this new information, Dean ate what Charlie put in front of him on autopilot, not even noticing what it was.

After the way the Campbell clan had treated him, Dean could guess a couple reasons why Castiel had escaped out of there, especially since he used scent blockers and had those scars. He lived in an omega safe-house for crying out loud. After being on the streets, not even knowing their language, for years. Daphne definitely knew. No wonder Castiel wasn’t in the system; Preserves continued to be almost completely separate from the rest of the world. They wouldn’t normally show up on databases. Of course, without having some way to confirm it, it was just a shot in the proverbial dark, but if Charlie had come to the same conclusion, then...

“-Dean?”

Dean looked up to see both Castiel and Charlie staring at him, awaiting a response. “Sorry, what?”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “I’m dropping Castiel off at his house. Need anything from the store?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay then. Ready to go, Castiel?”

Castiel had found his trenchcoat and nodded as he finished putting it on. “Yes.” He turned to the both of them. “Thank you for last night. It was very…" he paused, searching for the right word, "enlightening." He took another second before he looked at Dean. "Dean, I apologize if the sleeping situation made you uncomfortable.”

Man, he probably didn't even know about the spooning. He'd still been asleep at the time. Best to keep that particular embarrassment in the dark. Dean waved him off. “No problem, Cas.”

Castiel really stared at him then, too implacable for Dean to tell if he minded the nickname. “Shit. Sorry, man, I hope you don't mind, your name is–“

Castiel spoke over him, “No, no, that’s perfectly alright.” A corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile, which Dean returned. Castiel stood there for a few more seconds before stepping out of the kitchen.

Charlie looked thoughtful.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She replied. She twirled her keys around her fingers before pocketing them. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye.”

 


	9. Part of the Family

Sam was easy to spot in a crowd. All one had to do was look for the tall yeti roaming the halls, shaggy mane visible from a distance over the heads of all the regular-sized humans. “Sammy!” Dean yelled, loud as he could, gleefully watching as Sammy and Jess both stopped and turned around. Jess waved just as obnoxiously while Sam threw a spectacular bitchface in his direction. Dean waved back and closed the distance, passing students who did double-takes at his uniform. Or just him. Y’never knew.

When he got close enough, Sam opened his mouth, “Dean-“

“Yeah, yeah, don’t call you that at school, _professor.”_ Sammy just shook his head in resignation as Dean saluted him. He seemed to be incapable of not embarrassing a Law professor in front of students. Jess grabbed the raised arm and put it down, linking her own arms through each of theirs.

“Now, now. You stop that or we’re not paying for your lunch,” she drawled, tugging them along.

“You never pay for my lunch.”

“Exactly.” Dean bumped shoulders with her at the comment. This close, Dean could tell that Jess was wearing a small bit of that perfume again. It smelled really good.

“What are you doing here, Jess? Thought you usually ate lunch on the run.”

“Key word there is _usually,_ ” Jess replied. “Can’t I have lunch with my husband and brother-in-law without a reason?”

“I guess.” Not really, no. Sam had texted Dean to meet him for lunch to 'tell him something', so they were probably going to double-team him into doing something he really didn’t want to do. Sam knew Dean couldn’t say no to Jess when she pulled out the angel-eyes. They used it against him frequently.

They had to pass through the library on their way to the café where Sam normally ate, and Jess suddenly stopped them both after glancing further into the building. Dean followed her gaze, eyes snagging on a familiar mess of dark hair. He was sitting down at an otherwise empty table, facing the other direction with his head down, but Dean could tell it was Cas. God, the man was suddenly appearing everywhere now.

“Hold on a sec,” Jess whispered to them, extricating herself from their arms.

Dean half-heartedly tried to stop her. “Jess-“

Ignoring him, Jess walked over to Cas, who looked up when she stood next to his table, revealing the profile of his face.

“Is that...?” Dean glanced over to Sam when he spoke, only to find that he suddenly looked like Christmas had come early. Oh no.

“Come on, man. Don’t be cruel.”

“Too late.” Sam clapped a hand on the back of Dean’s shoulder and dragged him along with it. He’d never live down that picture.

Cas turned in his seat when he saw them both approach out of the corner of his eye, moving his chair back so he could stand up to meet them.

Putting out a hand, Sam smiled winningly at Castiel, who in turn looked a little shocked by his height. “Hello! I’m Sam Winchester. You’ve met my wife Jess and my brother Dean before, but not me.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sam.” Cas shook his hand, eyes darting between all three of them. “I hadn’t realized you were all related.”

“Yeah, we get around,” Sam said, a slight smirk on his face. He didn't even glance in Dean’s direction, but he still got an elbow in the stomach.

Cas didn’t get it. “I see.”

“We were just going to get lunch, if you wanted to join us,” Jess offered. She seemed to really like Castiel, even though he was a virtual stranger. Maybe she knew he was a T-1 omega, like Dean did.

Cas looked bashful at that, his lips quirking up into a smile as he glanced to the floor and back up again. “Ah. Thank you for the offer to eat with your family, but I’m afraid I’ve already eaten.”

Jess nodded, “That’s fine. We-“

A loud grumble made her stop talking completely. In the silence, Castiel’s face flushed red, and then Dean tried really, really hard to stifle his laughter, shaking silently.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel apologized, “I just didn’t want to-“

“Lemme guess - intrude on a family thing,” Dean finished for him, still chuckling. “You're getting predictable, Cas. C’mon, pack up your stuff, we’re buying you lunch.” Dean saw Sam look at Jess and raise an eyebrow, and she gave him a one armed shrug in response. He chose to ignore the exchange.

Once Castiel packed his backpack up and slung it over his shoulder, they made it to the café without running into anyone else they knew. It was busy, but they still got a table just fine. Dean noticed Cas’ food choice with approval – no rabbit food for him or Dean.

Before he took a single bite, Castiel inhaled and paused, a curious expression on his face. “Am I right to assume that congratulations are in order?”

Jess and Sam froze and their eyes flicked to Dean before they could stop themselves. “Uh…”

Dean took a couple seconds to process, inhaling as well, but he couldn’t separate any specific smell in such a crowded place. But he had noticed one earlier, one that he had taken as perfume. No way. “Jess, are you-?”

“Surprise?” Jess replied, “Shit. We were going to ask you to do something at the house tonight and spring the news then. It’s really becoming noticeable now.” She turned to Sam, “Everybody’s going to know within a few hours, aren’t they?”

“Yup.” Sam said.

Castiel apologized again and Jess responded, but Dean didn’t pay attention. He was too busy trying not to have a melt-down over shitty food, surrounded by college students.

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam asked a little later, and Dean realized all three of them were staring at him, looking very concerned.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, voice more wobbly than he expected. He cleared his throat, and stood up, food forgotten. Sam rose from his chair as well when Dean made his way around the table, and Dean gave him a bone-crushing hug. “Proud of you, man.” Sam just squeezed him tighter in response before pulling back, and Dean gave Jess a slightly less forceful hug.

Sam deserved some happiness in his life. Since coming back from the brink of addiction after the death of their militant father, he had finally gotten the girl, settled down, and now he was going to be a damned good father.

“I’m telling everyone to meet at the Roadhouse. We need to celebrate,” Dean told them, and Jess laughed. When he pulled back from the hug with Jess, Dean saw Castiel still sitting down, a nostalgic smile on his face as he watched them all. Dean looked away when Cas met his gaze, embarrassed at the show of emotion.

Jess pointed an accusatory finger at Castiel, drawing his attention. “Looks like you just got involved, since you revealed the secret early.” Castiel’s look turned contrite before she continued, “So you’re going to be there tonight as well if you want back into my good graces. Bring Daphne and the two kids, too.”

“Oh…of course.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and support! It means a lot, and even if I don't respond to all of your comments, know that I appreciate all of them and read them more times than I would like to admit!


	10. Stargazing

The Roadhouse did not appear as impressive in the remaining daylight as it had in the full dark. Last he had been here, the glow of the neon signs had not illuminated the building as the unforgiving sun did now. Castiel still thought it had a certain charm about it, one of character and a long history, despite the flaws now revealed. Daphne did not look like she thought the same. One glimpse of it through the windshield, and her eyebrows rose for a split second in sudden judgement before she remembered herself. She got over it fast enough, recovering even before pulling into the parking lot. Jessica had texted him the time and assured him that minors were allowed until later in the evening, so Shawn and Krissy immediately climbed out of the backseats as well when Daphne parked. The slamming of their car doors was sharp and loud in the relative silence; the only other sounds were of the distant cars behind them, passing on the road as the remaining sunlight scintillated over their windshields and stained the old wooden façade in front of them a ruddy brown.

Daphne and the two kids followed Castiel into the building, and his nose was once again assaulted by the sharp smell of smoke and spilled alcohol as they entered. This early, the Roadhouse remained relatively empty, so Castiel immediately spotted the large group that had gathered by the bar. Jess saw them first and waved them over, most of the group turning to see who had arrived. She looked radiant even in the dim light of the bar, surrounded by family and friends. Castiel realized with a shock that he already recognized most of them.

Smiling wide, Jess met them halfway. “You made it!” She turned her gaze to the shorter two. “You must be Krissy and Shawn. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Shawn remained a step behind Krissy, so Jess shook Krissy’s hand first before bending to do the same with him. “I’ll introduce you to everyone, but I bet you two will like Ash the best.”

When she led them all over to the rest of the group, sure enough, Ash diverted both Krissy and Shawn when he turned around first. “Hey dudes and dudettes. How’s life?” He nodded at Castiel in a _what’s up_ gesture _._ "Good to see you're still alive."

Krissy struggled to keep her mouth in a reasonably small smile, and didn't say anything, but Shawn had no such social qualms. “What’s wrong with your hair?”

“What, you mean this beautiful mane?” Ash asked, unfazed, and flipped his mullet back with a hand, “It’s for all occasions, man. Business in the front, party in the back.”

Jess leaned in closer to Krissy and Shawn, “Don’t be fooled by his looks. He's a genius. Although, he's not breaking the stereotype by much. He has eight younger siblings back home,” she told them conspiratorially.

“And they’re all _crazy as hell._ ” Ash responded. “I was born first so I took all the smarts and left none for the rest.”

Castiel missed Shawn’s response when Jess touched his arm as well as Daphne’s, drawing their attention. “I’ll give you two the rundown. My husband Sam is this man right here,” Jess patted Sam’s arm, and he smiled at Castiel before shaking Daphne’s hand. “This is Charlie and Jo,” the two women smiled at them, the blonde haired Jo raising an eyebrow, “Jo’s mother Ellen is the woman behind the bar, and her husband Bobby is the one standing next to her. Sam’s brother Dean you’ve both met, he and his partner Benny are sitting on the far end.” Castiel blinked, trying to take all of it in.

Jo came forward to shake his hand in a firm grip. “Castiel, right?”

“That’s correct. It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, blinking. She already knew his name?

“Oh, trust me, same goes here.” Jo said, smirking in response as she looked to the side. Castiel followed her gaze to where Dean and Benny sat, unexpectedly meeting Dean’s own eyes before the man turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. Castiel squinted in confusion, but looked back to Jo when she started speaking again. “I have that picture as my phone background, you know.”

“What picture?”

Charlie turned to them both and looped an arm around Castiel’s, “Ooookay, hi there. Want anything to drink? Or eat? Or let’s just meet the rest of the gang, yeah?” She dragged him away from Jo.

For such a gathering, alphas made up an unexpectedly large proportion. Ellen and her daughter Jo were both alphas, and so were Sam and Benny. The rest seemed to be betas, and Daphne was the only omega. She didn’t seem to mind. Charlie took Castiel over to meet Bobby and Ellen, the oldest of the group.

“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon after last time,” Ellen observed after the introductions.

Castiel cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Yes, well, I didn’t expect to either. I hope my first impression wasn’t too terrible.”

“You didn’t throw up or break anything, so you’re fine.”

“...Right.”

Charlie patted his back. “Don’t worry, these people don’t go easy on anyone the first time. I woke up with another tattoo.”

 

Some time after, just as Charlie left Castiel alone for a second, someone came up behind him. “Have to say, thought you’d be taller,” a low voice said, a southern drawl coloring the words. Curious, Castiel turned around to find himself face to face with Dean’s partner Benny. The other man stood in front of him, both hands in his jacket, but he took one out of his pocket to shake hands, a half-smile on his face.

Castiel didn’t know what came over him, but he shook the offered hand a little stiffer than usual. “I could say the same, Benny -?”

“Lafitte.” Benny replied, standing more upright than before, the welcoming smile dimming the tiniest bit.

Of course this would happen, now, with the police officer. Sometimes alphas just instinctively seemed to set each other on edge, rubbed each other the wrong way, and now Benny had a look on his face like he didn’t quite know what to think.

"Now I'm wondering," Benny said, looking him up and down, sizing him up, "how did you manage to take down an alpha on Red? Last time we had an alpha on that stuff, it took three officers to restrain him. And, no offense, you don't look the type."

It was very hard to not take offense. "Really." Castiel said, finally meeting Benny's direct gaze. "And what type do I look like?"

Benny's gaze hardened into real suspicion before he smiled again, teeth showing. "I don't know. Isn't that something?"

Castiel looked over Benny’s shoulder, desperate for an escape and looking for Daphne, when he spotted a familiar face at the far end of the building.

It was the professor from Class Relations, staring straight at him. This night could not get better. When he had Castiel’s attention, he motioned to the door and put three fingers behind his ear, a sign Castiel couldn’t ignore. His stomach dropped at the sight, and before he could look away, Benny had turned around to spot the professor as well.

“Know him?” Benny asked, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel nodded as the professor moved to the door. “Yes, he’s one of my professors. I - I think he wants to talk about the paper I recently turned in. Excuse me.” Castiel stepped past Benny and walked across the room and through the door. Now that the sun had just set, the parking lot had descended into darkness, devoid of streetlights give any light. Although he didn’t see the professor, he heard the crunch of gravel underfoot coming from around the edge of the building. Castiel followed the sound and rounded the corner to find the professor leaning against the wooden side of the Roadhouse, arms crossed in front of him.

“You are a hard man to talk to, Jimmy. Almost thought I’d have to go Private Eye on you and stalk you on campus wearing a fake mustache.”

“My name is not-“

“Yeah, yeah, ‘Castiel’.” He did air quotations with his fingers. “You can call me Gabe.”

Castiel knew better than see the gesture and ignore it. “What do you want? Why did you use that signal?” To know their emergency sign, this man had to be one of the omegas from the Forest that had made it out, for whatever reason.

“Knew you wouldn’t talk to me if I didn’t use it.”

Castiel scowled, “You know it should-“

“Only be used when we’re compromised,” he finished for Castiel. “Blah, blah, blah. I just had to find out if I needed to skedaddle out of town with _you_ around.”

“You’re asking if I was followed here. I wasn’t.”

“If you’re alive, does that mean anyone else-?”

“No.” Castiel looked away, then, “I was the only one.”

“Dammit.” Gabriel sighed. “All those people-“ he stopped talking, collected himself. “I heard about it through the grapevine when it happened, of course. I didn’t want to believe it, but then all the communication lines inside just went silent. I didn’t think anyone had made it out.”

“Has any of the Underground been reestablished?”

The professor just shook his head in response. A silence descended, broken only by the growl of an engine on the road, both men illuminated faintly for a second by the passing headlights. “So, do you mind if I ask - how did it happen?”

Castiel debated not telling him anything for a second. “They were tipped off during a move,” Castiel replied, finally. “Most got caught during the transport of two omegas across the border. The rest would have been named under torture, or-”

"Already betrayed. Jesus. How did you manage to survive?”

“I’d rather not discuss my involvement.”

“Fair enough.” The professor sighed and pushed off the wall. “Guess that’s that then,” he said, with finality. “No more Underground. I don’t think any more People of the Forest are ever making it out after that clusterfuck.” Gabe turned to Castiel once more. “That’s all I needed to know, so I’m outta here. I really hope we never have to meet again, ‘cause I’d rather not lose the life I have out here. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But, y’know, thanks. You lost a lot for the cause.”

Castiel could only nod. He didn’t know the half of it.

Gabe gave him a two-finger salute before walking past him and disappearing around the corner of the Roadhouse. A car door closed, the sound of a starting engine loud and sudden in the dark, and Castiel stood there, unconsciously rubbing his arm, until the sound faded out.

 

Unwilling to go in just yet, Castiel walked to the far end of the parking lot away from the street. A black car sat at the far edge of the parking lot, shining dark under the clear night sky. It faced the field behind the Roadhouse, so Castiel deliberated for a moment before sitting gingerly on the front bumper, looking out over the tall grass into the sky.

He found Cygnus without much trouble, even though the stars winked back much dimmer here than they ever had in the Forests. Even when he had been homeless in the cities, always looking over his shoulder, he had always had the stars on cloudless nights, connecting him to something changeless. This, of course, was the best time for the Swan. It hung prominently in the sky overhead, flying its way across Milky Way.

When a breeze blew by, ruffling his clothes and hair, Castiel closed his eyes and placed his hands behind him on the cool metal, leaning back. Soon enough, the crunch of gravel alerted him to someone walking closer. Maybe Daphne or Charlie had come to find him and bring him back.

“Dude, off the car!”

Castiel startled at the voice, sliding off the bumper and turning around to face the approaching form. “Dean?”

The footsteps faltered. “Cas? The hell you doing out here?”

“Just looking at the stars.” Castiel responded, warmth bleeding through him from hearing that nickname again, and Dean stopped in front of him. It had turned too dark to see anything besides black and grey shapes. He assumed the black car was Dean’s from the reaction. “I apologize for sitting on your car without permission.”

“It’s fine.” Dean said after a pause. “Just don’t dent or scratch her, man. I get real protective of Baby here.” He ran his hand over the metal before putting his hands in his pockets. “Guess you wanted some peace and quiet, huh? The gang can get a little crazy sometimes.”

“They’re good people. You have a very nice family, Dean.”

“…Thanks.”

“What are you doing out here?” Castiel asked, tilting his head, though Dean wouldn’t be able to see the action.

“Oh, I just came out to grab something from the car.” Dean said. “But to hell with it.” He made his way over to the front of the car and sat down on the end of the bumper, leaving an obvious space for Castiel. “I haven’t done this in ages. Me ‘n Sammy used to do this all the time as kids.”

Castiel hovered by the side of the car before sitting down again. “Do you have a favorite constellation?”

“Orion.” Dean craned his head around to look for it. “Not seeing it though.” The constellation fit Dean perfectly now that Castiel thought about it. The Hunter.

“It’s still below the horizon.” Castiel replied. “It’s mostly seen in winter and spring.”

“Damn. What about you?”

“Cygnus. I was just looking at it when you arrived.”

“Yeah? I don’t know that one.” Dean leaned back, resting his elbows on the hood behind him.

Castiel pointed at it. “It’s also called the Northern Cross. I know it as the Swan. See the bright star to the left? Straight up from the tall tree over there?” Dean made a sound of agreement. “That’s the tail, and the three other stars follow the Milky Way in a line. The two bright stars perpendicular to the second one are the wings.”

It took him a moment. “Uh, I think I see it, now. Why do you like it so much?”

“A swan can fly wherever it wants, but this one always follows the same path, over and over again. I find it fascinating.”

“Wow. That’s way better than my answer.”

“Which is?”

The fabric of Dean’s jacket moved in a shrug. “I don’t know. Always thought he was cool, being the Alpha Warrior and fighting animals and shit, but that’s a pretty lame reason.”

“That’s a perfectly fine reason.” Castiel said. “I’ll change my answer. Wings are ‘cool’.”

“…Did you just make quotation marks with your fingers?”

“Yes. What, did I do it wrong?”

“You’re weird, man.”

“So I’ve been told.” Castiel’s phone buzzed in his pocket, surprising him. He looked at the text.

_Where are you? – Daphne_

“I should go back in.” Castiel said, reluctant, looking back up at Dean’s dark form. “Daphne’s looking for me.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, guess I should head in too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha oh my god is this fun to write!  
> Mystery = be as vague about everything as you possibly can and frustrate everyone


	11. A Day in the Life

Dean found himself glaring at the carton of milk in his hand. It didn’t deserve it, but he clutched it a bit too tightly anyways and watched the edges crease under the pressure. The good mood he’d been riding high on all week from Jess’ pregnancy reveal had finally crashed hard and fast today, thanks to motherfucking _Gordon_. He was the kind of officer that Dean had avoided like the plague during his younger years – police officers who only looked the other way and smirked if they saw an omega being forced into a back alley. Dean had seen it happen before.

There’d been another alpha/omega rape under the influence of Red last night, not discovered until afterwards, unfortunately. The vic, a senior KU student walking home from a night out drinking, had reported it from the hospital early this morning. Gordon and the rest of his alpha buddies usually gathered to smoke in the parking lot after their shifts, and Dean overheard their discussion today, walking to retrieve Baby.

“-pity I wasn’t there.” Gordon replied in response to one of the others. “I would’ve taken _good_ care of her.”

Dean almost missed a step, eyes coming up to meet Gordon’s, knuckles going white around the keys in his pocket. They couldn’t say that shit around Bobby unless they wanted to get their asses handed to them, and the rest of the group saw Dean and shuffled guiltily, caught. Gordon just kept looking straight at Dean, even smiling a little. An alpha like him wasn’t intimidated by a mere beta, not unless he was outranked. “Hear something you like, Dean?”

Dean had a split second to decide what he wanted to do, but his mouth opened before he could think about it. “Nah, just hearing some overcompensation. Sorry about your dick.”

One of the other alphas covered up a guffaw with a hasty cough. Gordon lost the smile but didn’t break the stare. The red of the smoldering embers at the end of his cigarette reflected in his eyes. He exhaled slowly before speaking, the smoke disappearing in the still, heavy air. The other alphas kept quiet, watching them. “Careful now, Dean. One might think you’re interested if you keep bringing it up.”

Dean needed to shut up and not antagonize an alpha that could make his life a living hell. But his traitor body had already turned around, still walking to his car, to respond. “Don’t worry, seems like bringing it up is already a problem.”

Several of the others choked at that, not bothering to cover it up until Gordon glared in their direction. Turning his back to Gordon, Dean ignored them and finally made it to his car. He couldn't help but risk glancing over to the group again as he pulled out of the parking lot, only to find Gordon meeting his gaze through the windshield.

Dean sighed and dropped the milk carton into his basket.

Sure, sometimes people suspected, but Dean was good at staying off people’s radar for that kind of thing. He hadn’t had a real heat in over a decade, 'cause as soon as he could get suppressants, he'd been on them. Despite the obvious, it was just - Dean hated the _Look_. The one that happened when people found out he was an omega. When they started treating him different. John himself had been the first one when he'd walked in on Dean experiencing his first heat in the middle of the night. They had both thought Dean would grow to be an alpha like his father, but that horrible night had shot _that_ particular horse right in the face.

He hadn’t even wanted to tell Benny, _didn't_ in fact, but it took less than a month for Benny grow suspicious from physical activity and close quarters. At that point, Dean finally just had to bite the bullet and tell him. Turned out Benny didn’t give a flying fuck, but Dean didn’t trust the other alpha officers to be the same way. And now, after what just happened with Gordon, he’d have to be extra careful.

Dean roamed the aisles, trying to shake himself out of his mood, as he got the rest of what he needed. Usually he could wait until his two days off rolled around to go grocery shopping, but he’d forgotten to go last weekend. He'd been scrounging off of weird combinations all week, but he had run out of coffee this morning. A sucky day all around, really. Everyone else in town seemed to be at the store as well, based on the lines. The lady in front of him had to go through her whole purse to dig out her coupons, ignoring her two kids, who ran circles around the checkout aisles, screaming at the top of their lungs. He wanted to claw his face off.

Forever and an age later, he made it out of the store without strangling anyone, and the drive home stayed quick and painless. He even got all his grocery bags out in one go, closing the door and locking it with a little maneuvering, but it was no surprise when life decided to kick him in the balls again. Halfway across the parking lot, the sound of ripped plastic reached him a split second before his items scattered across the ground.

He stood still for a moment and closed his eyes before leaning his head back. “Oh COME ON!”

With a pained sigh, Dean crouched to set the rest of the bags down and pick things up. Trails of egg white spider-webbed their way across the grooves in the pavement, so Dean already knew there were casualties even before he opened the egg carton to check. Three out of twelve had broken open. He picked them out and threw them spitefully against the nearest parked car.

Just as Dean turned back to the task of rescuing the rest of his stuff, black shoes walked into view, right in front of him.

“I got this!” Dean snapped. When he twisted his head up, ready to tell them to fuck off, Dean came face to face with Cas, already bending down to join Dean.

“Yes, I’m quite aware of your capability,” Cas told him, ignoring his outburst to pick up wayward items and redistribute them in the remaining bags.

Face burning, Dean kept his gaze on the ground. Finally, when it was all contained again, Dean met Cas’ gaze. “Thanks,” Dean said, like it pained him to.

Cas picked up two of the bags without asking and stood up. “It’s no trouble. You don’t mind if I carry these, do you?”

Dean could only shake his head as he gathered up the rest and stood up, leading Cas back to his apartment. “So, uh, you here to hang out with Charlie?” Dean asked, looking back over his shoulder at Cas.

“No, she’s assisting me with computer issues today. I thought I would buy her pizza as payment. She seems to enjoy pizza quite a lot.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.”

There was a silence. “She…seems to enjoy pizza quite a lot?” Cas replied, voice hesitant.

Dean laughed, the muscles in his shoulders and neck unwinding. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been. “It’s a figure of speech, Cas.”

“Oh…I see.”

They made it to his apartment with no more mishaps. Dean unlocked the door and led Cas into a carbon copy of Charlie’s own apartment, immediately feeling self-conscious. Dean didn’t usually like having people over in his apartment. Not that it was dirty, or anything. He just liked his privacy. Dean deposited the groceries on the kitchen counter and Cas did the same before looking around, curious. Dean managed not to fidget as he scrutinized the place. It wasn’t much; his apartment was pretty bare from where they were standing.

“You have a very nice apartment,” Cas said. “It’s very clean.”

“Thanks.” Dean replied awkwardly. If he'd been in a better mood, Dean would have tried much harder to start a conversation, but he wasn't.

They stood there in silence for a bit, until Castiel started to fiddle with the strap of his backpack. “I should probably meet up with Charlie now, I’m already late. It was nice seeing you again,” Cas said, as he started to move to the door. Shit. Cas had just tried to be nice and help him out, and Dean was just being an asshole. Just as Cas made it to the hallway, Dean sighed in resignation, looking back at the food he had just bought. “Goddammit,” and a bit louder, “Wait a sec, Cas.”

Cas looked at Dean. “Yes?”

Why did he do these things to himself?

“Just – just don’t order pizza, okay? I’ll text Charlie in a bit.”

Castiel squinted at him, “Alright.”

“Yeah, so…” he paused, but couldn’t come up with anything else to say while Cas was still staring at him like that. “See ya in a bit.” Dean said, and shut the door in his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this one is a bit shorter than normal - i'll catch up next weekend!  
> i was also recently reminded that i am not a very good writer, so sorry about that


	12. A Day in the Life, II

Shaking his head at the awkwardness, Dean made his way back to the kitchen to unload the groceries that had survived. It’s not like the man could help being weird, and Charlie would help smooth things out like she always did. After looking through the food he had now, Dean settled on a fast and obvious choice. He'd just whip up some pasta with meat sauce and garlic bread and call it good. It’s not like Charlie ever cooked anything beyond Ramen for herself anyways. She always loved it when Dean fed her.

He got everything out, ready to start cooking, when his phone buzzed against the table. He ignored it until it buzzed again, signaling a call instead of a text. Benny’s name flashed on the screen as Dean picked it up, so he pressed call and held it to his ear as he turned back around.

“Hey, Benny. Get my text?”

“Please tell me you told Bobby ‘bout this,” Benny said, flat out.

“Why, hello to you too,” Dean replied, turning the burners on.

“Dean.”

Dean fiddled with the handle of the frying pan he had just put on the stove and said nothing.

“ _Dean_ ,” Benny repeated, getting exasperated, “you-“

“What am I supposed to tell him, Benny?” Dean cut him off. “Just saw some of your alpha officers bonding over talking about omega rape, please tell ‘em off so they can all know who narc’d on ‘em? God forbid if they find out about me after that.” Dean had kept the look Gordon had pinned him with to himself. He’d seen it before, and he knew how dangerous it was. No need to worry Benny any further.

After a pause, Benny sighed. “Ya have a point, there. But Bobby still needs to know if there’s a problem brewin’.”

Dean pulled out the package of hamburger meat and looked for the right knife to cut through the plastic. “Well then, _you_ can tell Bobby some horseshit about not liking how the other alphas are acting next week. I’m not gonna put my ass on the line just because they said something I-“ When he tried to wedge the phone between his ear and shoulder to have both hands free, Dean fumbled and it dropped to the floor, “-shit!” The call was still going when Dean bent down to pick up the phone, so he put it to his ear again. “Sorry. Dropped the phone.”

“The hell you doin’ right now?” Benny asked.

“Making dinner. Charlie and Cas are coming over.” Dean could hear the silent judgment over the line. “Ugh, Benny, we’ve been over this.”

“Yeah. We have.” Benny responded. “And I _told_ you I don’t like him.”

That was true – Benny had taken him aside during the Roadhouse gathering last week to inform him that Castiel was an alpha, but Dean had only laughed at that. There was no way Castiel was an alpha – and Dean had proven it. It was illegal for an alpha to even step foot into an omega safe-house. Not even Benny or Sam could step foot in one. So legally, Castiel couldn’t be an alpha because he was living in one of those same safe-houses. And no way would an alpha need to escape the Preserves. They only heard stories of omegas doing that, here.

“Yeah, and you also told me he was an alpha, so…”

“I dunno,” Benny replied. “I was so sure that –“ he paused, changed gears, “I’m usually not wrong about that kinda thing. I just think that you shouldn’t warm up to him so fast ‘cause everyone else is. Family’s always been your blind spot.”

“Thank you, I’m aware of that,” Dean said, dryly. He managed to rip open the plastic and put the meat into the pan, resulting in a satisfying sizzling sound. The smell of cooking beef made his stomach twinge with hunger. “Look, it’s not like I’m gonna have a heart-to-heart with the man over a candle-lit dinner. Besides, Charlie’s always around, so what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Woah,” Benny chuckled. “Knock on wood, brother. I’ll tell you I told you so later.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Hanging up, now.”

“Andrea says hi, by the way.”

“Hi back. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

Dean finally ended the call and texted Charlie before placing his phone back on the table.

_Dinner @ my place in 20. Ur favorite – make sure Cas doesnt escape._

“Oh my blerg, it smells so good in here!” Charlie almost moaned as she walked into the apartment. “ _And_ I smell garlic bread. My life is complete.” Dean was still holding the pot of pasta that he had been taking over to the sink when the door had opened, so he waved and continued on. Cas entered a step behind Charlie, looking a bit uncertain again, like he thought Dean might kick him out.

Dean nodded to the plates beside him. “Just in time. Grab a plate. You guys are serving yourselves.”

Charlie darted forward immediately and Dean stepped out of her way. Cas paused in walking forward, as though just remembering something. “May I use your restroom to wash up beforehand?”

“…Go for it.” Dean replied. Cas nodded and ducked out of the kitchen. Dean looked at Charlie and gestured in his direction. _What the hell?_

Charlie only shrugged as she filled her plate. “He’s less weird than some of the guys I hang out with. At least he’s super polite and stuff. I think it’s adorable.” Not the word Dean would’ve used, but whatever. “So, is there a reason you cooked dinner for us? Bad day?”

Dean shrugged. Charlie already knew cooking was a stress-reliever for him. “Just some alpha officers being dicks.”

“Sucks.”

“Yup.”

They fell into a silence as Cas came back into the room, and they all sat down at the small table with their food before it was broken again. Charlie, of course, had no table manners, and started to inhale her own food, but before Cas started to eat, he looked over at Dean.

“Thank you, Dean. I didn’t know you could cook,” Cas said a little wistfully, and Dean cocked an eyebrow at him in response. “I only meant-“ Cas hurried to explain, “I am impressed when other people do it well. I managed to set off the fire alarm making, what do you call it, a PB&J?”

Both Charlie and Dean turned to stare at him. Charlie even paused in taking a bite out of a large piece of garlic bread and lowered it down to her plate. “How is that even possible?”

“The toaster is a very confusing contraption,” Cas replied, matter-of-fact. “Krissy said I shouldn’t enter the kitchen again because she wants to keep the roof over her head.”

Dean shook his head and felt the corners of his mouth turn up. That sounded just like her, from the few times they had talked. “The situation with Shawn turning out okay?”

“It’s going very well, yes. The social worker seemed to think you would know her – a woman named Missouri?”

“That old woman still working?”

Tilting his head in suspicion, Cas continued, “…She also told me to tell you that she’s not old.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean smiled wanly at the response. That was good. Dean trusted her to make the right call for Krissy and Shawn, just like she had tried to do for Sammy and him before John had moved them out of Lawrence. When Dean didn’t say anything else, a rather comfortable silence descended as they all focused on eating instead of talking.

Actually, this wasn't so bad. Cas was definitely the weird third wheel, but he didn't say much and didn't intrude in a bad way. As Dean finished eating, he half-listened to Charlie get into a discussion with Cas about the viability of shapeshifters turning into more than one animal (the nerds), only vaguely aware when she took her empty plate to the sink and left the room for a brief couple of minutes. After a long day of work, it was nice to be able to not have to concentrate on anything for too long, so it took him a while to realize he was seeing Charlie gesturing at him when she reentered the room to stand by the sink. Dean always sat against the wall facing the door, and Cas currently sat opposite him with his back to Charlie and didn’t notice the motion when Dean did. Curious, Dean took his almost empty plate over to the sink, turning to Charlie.

“Okay. Not to alarm you or anything,” Charlie started, whispering so Cas couldn’t hear, which did exactly that, “but you left your scent blocker stuff out on the bathroom sink.”

Confused, Dean frowned until Charlie chewed on her lip and pointedly glanced back at Cas. Who had also been in that same bathroom earlier.

Fuck _everything_.

Immediately, he could feel a tension headache creep back. This day just continued to break all expectations. Could it get _any worse_? That was another reason he didn’t invite people over. He always forgot and had shit like this happen. Guess he just had to learn that lesson the hard way, again. He couldn’t let his guard down frikkin’ anywhere.

Charlie definitely recognized the look on his face, “Hey, it can’t be that bad, right? He-“

“Charlie,” Dean warned. Subsiding, she watched him nervously as Castiel approached and placed his own dishes in the sink.

“I’ll do these dishes, since you were so kind as to make dinner for us.” Castiel offered, like everything was still normal. When neither of them responded, he glanced up, finally catching on. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know, you tell me." Dean said, tone cold.

At that, understanding crossed Cas' features. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Dean repeated incredulously. “Is that fucking all?”

Castiel slouched a little bit, apologetic. “I’m sorry, it was obvious you wanted to keep it a secret. I didn’t want to say anything. You must know I won’t tell anyone.”

“Great. That’s cool,” Dean turned to Charlie, “he says he won’t tell anyone. Perfect! My secret is safe.”

Castiel’s eyebrows lowered at that. “Dean, I live in an omega safehouse and use a scent-blocker as well. I understand why you are so upset, but did you really think I would treat you differently after knowing this?”

Drawing back a little, Dean blinked at Castiel. With the scars on his arms, it was obvious that Castiel knew exactly what Dean was so worried about - had lived through it. But that didn't stop Dean from feeling horribly exposed. Every single time he’d been found out on accident, something terrible _always_ happened. Just because it was another omega that had done so meant absolutely nothing. It wouldn't be the first time, for him. One misplaced word could ruin Dean's life here, and now Castiel had that power over him.

Castiel and Charlie were still watching him apprehensively, like they thought Dean would explode in their faces, and it just made Dean’s head throb worse. “You know what? I’m not dealing with this shit right now,” he told them, arms crossed. This day just needed to end right now before anything else could happen.

Castiel took that for what it was and headed to the door. Dean followed him out, this time to make sure he left, and Castiel turned to face him again after passing over the threshold. “Dean, I won’t tell anyone.” he repeated, solemn.

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean said, and closed the door in his face with a little more force than necessary.

Charlie had already pulled out the good whiskey when Dean walked back into the kitchen, holding it up in front of her as a peace offering.

“So…rough day, huh?”

“Shut the hell up, Charlie.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god, you guys - those comments last time literally made me cry, and there were so many! So instead of responding individually, I just want to say thank you to everyone right now - you all made my week a lot better! Fuck 'em, right?


	13. Bad for only One

Castiel found himself at the door to Charlie’s apartment two weeks later on a Saturday night.

Apprehensive, he knocked and waited for Charlie. Castiel hadn't seen Dean since he'd accidentally discovered the scent blockers in Dean's apartment, but Charlie had said Dean would show up tonight for their movie night. From what he knew of Dean in the short time he'd known the man, it seemed likely that Charlie had forced him into it. Charlie and Castiel hadn't stopped meeting since that night; they'd watched the rest of the Star Wars movies without Dean, which was apparently a bigger issue than he had thought it would be, based on Charlie's reaction.

"He's, you know, understandably touchy about the whole thing." Charlie had assured him, after making sure he'd been serious about not telling another soul about Dean. "He just needs a little time to calm down. Man, you should've seen him the day he told _me_. His best friend. Sweating bullets, the whole time."

That had been last week.

He looked up as Charlie opened the door, looking surprised to see him. Not a good sign. “Castiel! Uh, you didn’t get my text, did you?”

“I lost my phone.” He’d forgotten his phone somewhere on campus this morning. Again. Once he noticed Charlie’s disheveled appearance, and the acrid scent of distress reached his nose, Castiel frowned in concern. “Is something the matter?”

Charlie gave him a one shoulder shrug. “Something came up with the girlfriend, so I had to cancel the movie night. Sorry.”

“That’s perfectly fine. Your relationship takes precedence over a movie.”

Charlie nodded, still looking conflicted. “I feel really bad that you came all the way over here, though.” She paused and thought for a moment. “And Dean was surprisingly set on coming to this shindig as well after I told him that he got to pick the movie. Actually, he probably just got home from work, hold on.” Charlie left her doorway and came back with her phone to her ear.

“Dean?”

The electric buzz of a voice answered, but was too distorted for Castiel to understand the words.

“No, I’m not done talking to her just yet. I’m calling ‘cause Castiel is here. He didn’t get my text.”

There was a pause before the voice replied again, and the response made Charlie raise an eyebrow.

“…I’ll do that.” she said, “Okay, yeah, I’ll talk to you after.” Ending the call, she pulled the phone away from her face to look at it, narrowing her eyes. When Charlie finally turned to Castiel again, she tucked her phone into her back pocket. “Well, Dean said you could go up and watch the movie at his place. I did sorta push him into joining us at the beginning, so he probably won’t give you the most welcoming reception ever. I told you before - he gets really defensive over-“ she waved a hand vaguely, “- y'know.”

“I understand.”

Charlie really looked at him then. “Okay, cool. I need to get back to Gilda.” She made to close the door, but then paused for one last parting comment, “Oh, and I swear to God, if you two watch Blade Runner without me, I will murder you both.”

 

As soon as Castiel knocked on Dean’s door, a muffled voice from within shouted, “It’s open!”

That wasn't an explicit invitation to enter, but after a moment's hesitation, Castiel opened the door and stepped inside. When he didn’t see Dean anywhere in the apartment, Castiel called out, “Dean?”

“Just a sec!”

Castiel looked around the apartment from where he was standing while he waited for Dean to appear. A few posters of classic cars and bands he didn’t know adorned the walls above a couch and two sturdy looking chairs, and old dirty boots haphazardly lined the bottom of the wall next to the door. Compared to his own space, Dean’s apartment appeared spotless, but still had its own, if utilitarian, personality.

Dean finally appeared from the bedroom in the back of the apartment, hair still dark from a recent shower, wearing a worn T-shirt, a necklace, and jeans torn at the knees. It was disarming to see Dean in such casual clothes.

As Dean approached, Castiel shifted on his feet. “I wanted to apologize again for-“

Dean just waved him off, “’S fine. Forget it.”

“But I-“

“I said it’s fine!” Dean interrupted, a little sharper. He seemed to realize his tone had changed, and grimaced, “Sorry, I - let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

Confused, Castiel could only nod. Why had he been invited over if Dean didn’t want him here? Was Dean just trying to appease Charlie so she didn't push him into anything else? The thought lay heavy in his sternum.

As Dean walked into the living room, he threw a glance over his shoulder, a silent _are you coming?_ Castiel followed in his wake, walking into a pleasant scent. Whatever Dean had used in the shower lingered on his skin, still noticeable under the beta cover scent that had been liberally applied. Other than taking a slightly larger breath, Castiel stayed quiet as to not draw Dean's attention. They took opposite ends of the couch after Dean popped in the DVD disk, turned on the TV, and turned off the overhead lights.

“What movie are we watching?” Castiel asked from his side of the couch, glancing over at Dean.

“Oh,” Dean turned in his direction and crossed his legs on the empty space between them, “it’s called The Village.” Dean grinned, looking pleased with himself. When he didn't say anything else, Castiel turned his gaze to the TV as the movie started.

After shots of dark branches and the sound of heavy drumbeats, it became painfully obvious that this movie was about the Preserves. Nervous, Castiel glanced over at Dean again, who caught the motion and turned his head. Their eyes met, Dean's eyes glinting in the light from the TV. On reflex, Castiel smiled a little and quickly turned back when Dean did the same. No, Dean couldn’t know. It was impossible. Why had Dean chosen this particular movie? Was it just a coincidence? Were there many films about them?

Even though the movie stereotyped their way of life in ignorance and made them out as a superstitious lot, it struck home, uncomfortably close. The ‘creatures they did not speak of’ seemed to be a crude referral to their wolf form, stalking the humans from the woods. Haunting calls of an unseen thing and the snapping of twigs in the underbrush filled Castiel with tension. He startled badly at the first sighting of the creature, a brief flash of red.

“You alright over there?” Dean asked, and Castiel felt his gaze on the side of his face.

Castiel kept his eyes on the screen. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Dean made a noise of assent, and they fell silent again. Castiel tried to still himself. He only had to make it through the movie. And he managed well until the blind omega girl started to travel through the woods, alone. Castiel tried to stay calm, but it was in vain, muscles tensing as another tree branch snapped off screen. The Omega ran, gasping for breath in her fear, and Castiel couldn't help his own breathing match hers, and then the creature was suddenly _there_. And it charged –

-He put up his arms just in time, jaws biting deep into his forearm as the force knocked him to the ground, Uriel tearing through flesh –

-The girl was running away through the branches-

Castiel felt his vision narrowing and abruptly stood up, staggering against the couch. He could see Dean saying something, but the blood thrumming through Castiel's ears drowned out any other sound. Somehow, Castiel made it to the sink in the kitchen, gripping the edges for support as his heart pounded against his ribcage. He fumbled the faucet on with shaking hands and put them under the cold water, half imagining blood sluicing down off his hands before the shock of cold water brought him back a little more from the edge.

“Cas? Shit, you okay, man?” Dean’s voice actually sounded concerned.

Castiel ignored him in a sudden well of anger, closing his eyes and washing off the sheen of sweat from his face with cold water. He dried his face with a sleeve and straightened from leaning over the sink, locking his knees to stop them from shaking. “How long have you known?” He tried to slow his breathing when his voice came out breathless.

When Dean didn’t answer immediately, Castiel turned his head to see him standing back a ways, looking guilty. “Since the night at the Roadhouse,” he finally admitted.

“Who else?”

“Only Charlie and me figured it out. I didn't mean to - you knew my secret, so I just wanted, I mean-“

“You wanted leverage as well,” Castiel finished for him. Charlie had been suspicious at Dean’s acceptance earlier, and for good reason it seemed. Although, from the way Dean hovered nearby, he must not have realized the effect it would have on Castiel.

And if Dean and Charlie could figure him out so fast, that meant other people could as well. Castiel was obviously not as good at hiding as he thought he was.

Dean stayed silent as Castiel recovered for a bit longer. When he finally released his death grip on the sink to get a glass, still trembling, Dean sighed and mumbled under his breath before he standing beside Castiel at the sink and taking the glass from his hand. “I think you need something stronger than water, huh?”

An already open bottle of whiskey stood on the counter, and Castiel watched as Dean poured him a generous helping. Though the smell of it singed his nose, Castiel emptied the glass with one swallow. He coughed, grimacing at the burn.

“Do you have something less disgusting?” Castiel asked. The alcohol back at the Roadhouse had been better than this.

Dean crooked a tiny smile. “Not normally, but you’re in luck. Sit down.” Too weary to do anything but obey, Castiel sat down in one of the kitchen chairs as Dean finally turned around with a wine bottle in hand. “This is actually a gift Sammy got last week. I don’t really drink wine, but I’m getting their alcohol ‘cause Sammy can’t drink until Jess can.” Dean shook his head as he popped the cork. “He’s so whipped.”

Once Dean filled up one wine glass halfway, he slid it over the counter to Castiel. The dark red color rocking back in forth in the glass looked like blood from a vein, but Castiel willfully ignored it and pulled the glass over. Hesitant, Castiel sniffed the dark liquid, which drew an amused huff from Dean, and when it didn’t burn his nose like the other had, he took a sip. He deliberated for a second just for Dean, who was watching for his reaction, leaning over the counter on his elbows. Castiel took another sip to appease him, bitterness coating his tongue. “I like this one much better.” He didn't, but he was going to drink it anyway.

At that, Dean finally got his own glass and poured a little for himself. Castiel’s eye snagged on the necklace that hung around Dean's neck as he moved. It was shaped as the stylized head of a horned man.

“Where did you get that?” Castiel asked, gesturing, and Dean looked down where he pointed to the necklace.

“Oh, it’s just something my brother got for me when we were little,” Dean said, palming it so that Castiel couldn’t see. He made to tuck it under his shirt.

“It’s –“ Castiel started, and Dean paused. “That’s the symbol of Mospleh Ollar. He’s the god of the wild. Of the Forests.”

“Huh.” Dean said. He fiddled with it a bit more before letting it drop back down over his shirt. “So, did that movie get anything right?”

“A few things.” No sense in denying it, since Dean had already figured it out, but that didn't mean he would tell him anything more.

“We are definitely not watching the rest of that movie. It's not that good. I just got it to put you on the spot, 'cause, well-” Dean shrugged and fell silent, but he glanced to Castiel's covered arms and then looked away.

Castiel didn’t say anything to that, but he slid his empty glass over, and Dean took the hint.

 

Another glass in and Castiel felt a little better. Not as likely to shiver apart, though a strange feeling under his skin had replaced it. It hadn’t taken nearly as much alcohol for him to feel as affected. As the leftover adrenaline left his system, he found himself yawning, fatigued. It was late; the sun had gone down long ago, and he still needed to get back home. “I should probably go home,” Castiel finally said, and Dean looked at him.

“You can crash here for the night if you can’t make it home,” Dean offered, but Castiel shook his head. “Alright, do you need a ride?”

“No. I think it would be best if I took my bike home.” The cool night air would clear his head.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “You…Have you always ridden a bike over here?”

“Yes.” That seemed to amuse Dean for some reason.

Dean walked him to the door, but he paused in opening it all the way. He wanted to say something. Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean turned around to face Castiel. "I, uh, just need you to know that - I knew showing you that movie was a dick move, okay, but I really didn't- I didn't know-"

"Dean," Castiel interrupted, tired. "I'm not holding this against you. I know why you did it. Now we both can't say anything without serious consequences. Let's not discuss it further."

Dean closed his mouth and opened the door to let Castiel out.

 

Castiel had thought the ride back on his bike would clear his head. Instead, the itch under his skin got worse, a restlessness that didn't bode well for sleep, even though he was tired. His gut still burned warm from the alcohol he had consumed, but by the time he had reached the house, the warmth had spread through the rest of him. It wasn't just the alcohol. This was the start of something else. He was starting his alpha rut more than a month early. He tried to think of what would make that happen, but nothing in the last few days would explain it, besides the stressful evening he had just experienced.

When he entered the house, he heard Daphne, Krissy, and Shawn back in the kitchen, their muffled voices echoing down the hallway. Instead of going to join them, Castiel ascended the stairs and went directly to his own bedroom. He didn’t want to interact with them when he felt like this, the heat under his skin simmering in his veins. It was concerning how fast this had hit; usually he'd have more time to prepare, but Daphne would know by the morning. He always locked himself in his room during his ruts. He'd done his research with Daphne, but the alpha suppressants were prohibitively expensive and difficult to get. At times, he envied omegas for that.

Once he locked the door, Castiel took off all his clothes and threw his covers off the bed. It was going to be a long night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't gonna happen at first but God, Dean would so do that. Shit gets real in the next chapter!
> 
> also, if you are not imagining Cas riding his bike, trench coat flapping behind him like an idiot, you need to be.


	14. Red Like...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grossness ahead, be advised!

The second time it had happened, Dean was seventeen, almost eighteen. Still in high school at that point – a month into senior year, at a new school called Truman High. He’d drop out before the end of the semester, at a different school, a different town, and John wouldn’t care much at all.

It was relatively easy to avoid detection when they changed schools every couple of months. No one really had the opportunity to find out about him since Dean never went anywhere without a cover scent, and John had gotten him on suppressants after the first time there'd been trouble. Suppressants cost a good amount of money, and they struggled to make ends meet anyways, so he’d gone without them for years to make sure he got enough food on the table to feed Sammy when John was out for the count. After a huge fight the year before with two teenage alphas at the beginning of a heat, he’d been sent to Sonny’s omega safe-house. John had left him there for a good long while, without explanation. He'd finally picked him up of course, and wordlessly taken Dean to the nearest free clinic for suppressants. When he wasn’t drinking or just straight-up gone, John had tried. Badly, but he'd tried.

They’d been at this town, this school, for almost a month now, and Dean was enjoying his continuing status as the new bad boy in a leather jacket. Everyone assumed, with the help of the cover scent, that he was a regular beta. It helped that he was tall and good-looking. And a huge flirt. Girls loved the whole mysterious bad boy image, so he never had trouble getting a girl to complete the image at a new school, and this town was no exception.

Dean had managed to snag a beta girl named Amanda a few days in – a straight-laced, blonde-haired, blue-eyed knockout. He’d always had a weakness for good girls. Especially if he could convince them to make out in the janitor’s closet. Barring the intense make out sessions, Amanda was still a little uptight. She obeyed her parent’s curfew, for crying out loud, and wouldn’t break it even for her boyfriend. Dean should’ve known that he was playing with fire with that.

During a normal day at school, they’d ended up in the janitor’s closet again during their lunch period. He was a fan of janitor’s closets, especially if the lights were off with a warm body pressed right up against him in the tight space. She’d taken a shower this morning, so her hair smelled faintly of strawberries. It was awesome. Things were heating up, and he found himself getting a bit hot under the collar as he mouthed down her neck, so he was distracted when Amanda tilted her face just a little and dragged her lips across his jaw, then his neck.

She huffed a little, and Dean could feel her smile against the side of his jaw as she pulled back. “Oh my god.”

“What?” he asked, still not paying much attention. Dean tried to follow the motion, but when she pulled back too far he did the same and opened his eyes to look at her.

“Katie was actually right about you.”

Dean just frowned, confused. “About what?”

He couldn’t see much of Amanda in the dark, but he could see her shake her head slightly. “You don’t look the type at all! I thought she was crazy when she told me she saw you at the free clinic here in town.”

It was a good thing it was so dark in here. Dean felt his face freeze up in shock. Katy was one of Amanda’s close friends; a prim and proper omega girl. She volunteered at the free clinic, helping the less fortunate, like an omega should. Dean hadn’t seen her there, but she must've seen him. How could she rat out another omega? He felt dread roil in his gut. Had Amanda only gotten him in here to scent-check him?

“No I’m not,” Dean chuckled, scrambling for any other excuse, “that scent's from Sarah. Did you think you were the only girl I get in here?” It was a flimsy attempt, and they both knew it.

Amanda drew back. “Yes, I do think that. I feel sorry for you, you know.” She said, like this was a nice thing she was doing, “It must be hard pretending to be this macho beta when you’re just an omega.” It hit Dean like a knife to the stomach, twisting hot and painful. Shameful.

“I’m not pretending anything.” Dean said, but it was quiet. She’d already won.

Amanda straightened her hair and shirt, preparing to leave, but then turned back to him again. “Obviously, I’m not going to date an omega, so we’re done. You should really learn your place, Dean.” When she was gone, Dean took a couple moments to prepare himself. Then he stepped into the hall as well, his Dad’s leather jacket suddenly too big and ungainly on him.

Everyone knew by the end of the day.

The next day, he’d risked coming to school only to find the words BITCH sprayed in gold across his locker, notebooks destroyed. He could handle himself when there was physical violence, but he couldn’t stand the whispers, the Looks, so he was actually grateful when some alphas thought they could suddenly take him now that they knew he was an omega. He wound up suspended before the day was even over, a black eye and bloodied knuckles the only thing he took away with from that hellish school.

When Dad came back a few days later, Dean was happy to leave, and couldn’t bring himself to feel bad when Sammy was devastated. And he didn’t want to know what would happen to Sammy’s omega friend, the one he was leaving behind here. It wouldn’t be good.

Especially when they couldn't trust other omegas to help them through it.

 

Once Castiel had left, Dean went back to the living room to take out the DVD and put it away, muttering curses to himself. He hadn’t meant to be so much of a douche – of course he’d been a bit hesitant about it, but The Village was the only movie about the Preserves he could think of to show Cas that he knew. But Cas was always stoic as shit, so Dean thought he’d only squirm a little before Dean could throw out an off-hand comment about knowing his secret, and leave it at knowing there was a mutually assured destruction scenario in place. Admittedly, it was a dumb idea, but once in his head there was no getting it out. He'd almost dropped it once Charlie cancelled movie night to Skype her girlfriend, but then the opportunity arose one last time and he couldn’t help himself.

He should’ve known better than to show such a suspenseful movie to an omega from the Preserves in hiding. God, he was stupid.

 

An hour after Castiel had left his apartment, Dean started feeling it in the middle of cooking a quick late-night dinner.

The area in front of the stove-top was warm, so the first shiver took Dean by surprise. He frowned a little, but really didn’t think much of it until it happened again. He did feel a little worse for wear now that he thought about it. That disquiet and uneasiness one got right before getting sick. Aw, what the hell? Was he really getting sick? It didn’t happen often with his immune system, but that’s definitely what it felt like at the moment.

Whatever it was, it came on fast. Dean shivered again and felt his stomach roll. Okay, he wasn’t hungry anymore. In fact, the smell of food was making him nauseous now. Dean finished cooking and hastily put the food away in the fridge for later before his stomach twisted again and he felt his throat involuntarily tighten. Shit.

Dean barely made it to the sink before he gagged. He coughed, got a breath in for a second, and then he gagged again, forcefully. Okay, this was happening, he thought, and then he felt the burn of liquid coming up. Shockingly bright red liquid spattered against the bottom of the sink.

He panicked for a split second before he remembered. Fucking red wine looked like a crime scene when it came back up. After a brief second of respite, he dry-heaved again, eyes watering and spine arching, but nothing else came up despite the effort. Dean coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

This was some first-class karma shit right here; leaning over the same sink that Cas had an hour before and puking his guts out. He’d appreciate the situational humor more if he didn’t currently feel like a cement truck was in the process of running him over. This wasn’t normal at all, what he was feeling right now. It was coming on too fast to be normal. His stomach cramped, sharp and painful, and he dry-heaved into the sink again, clutching the sink edges for support, shaking. His head throbbed from the force of it.

A few more minutes and the feeling only got worse, and okay, this wasn’t a regular sickness – this was like the time he’d gotten severe food poisoning from those fucking tacos. But the only thing he’d touched since lunch was –

Dean looked up to see the almost empty wine bottle still sitting on the counter. He managed to grab it between bouts of nausea and really inspected the bottle. It looked and smelled fine – and nothing had looked off about the cork or anything when he had opened it. Turning it over in his hands, Dean felt something weird on the underside of the bottle, in the concave center. What the-?

He found a folded piece of paper attached to the bottom, and he managed to pry it out with trembling fingers. When he unfolded it, he found red writing scrawled on the inside, only one sentence long.

_Enjoy the gift._

A red diamond had been drawn underneath as a signature.

Dean took a second to process it, head pounding.

_Fuck._

He knew what this was.

The whole bottle had been dosed with Red. And meant for Sammy. It was a good thing he’d only had a small glass of the stuff. Any more and he would’ve overdosed. Anyone who wasn’t an alpha could freaking die if they had too much of-

The sickening realization dawned on him in a heartbeat.

 _Cas_! Holy shit, he’d had almost the entire bottle!

Dean fumbled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Cas’ number four times before he gave up. Did Cas not get the text from Charlie before because he didn’t have his phone, or was he already-? Maybe it wouldn’t hit him as hard because he was a T-1, but Dean was not taking that chance. Maybe it just hit him harder, all at once, with his metabolism.

His head felt like it was splitting open now. Dean dialed Charlie, but she didn’t pick up either. He finally realized that she’d turned off her phone to Skype with Gilda during the second try.

The third person picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Oh God. Benny.”

“Dean?” Benny asked, immediately alarmed, “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to drive me from my place to the Allen’s house, right now. Break the speed li-“ Dean had to take the phone away from his ear to gag again, and he spit out acidic saliva into the sink before he put it back to his ear. “Break the friggin speed limit.”

“Dean, why can’t you drive yourself?” Benny said, other muffled sounds from his end.

“Just drank something spiked with Red. M’not feeling so hot right now.” He didn’t know if this was going to get worse, and didn’t want to be driving when he found out.

“Please tell me you called an ambulance.”

Dean paused. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Castiel had a lot more. You call and have them meet us at the Allen house – we’ll probably get there before they do. I need to call Sam, now.”

“Goddammit, Dean. Meet you out front.” Benny said, and hung up.

Dean dialed his brother as he made it out of his apartment and into the parking lot, waiting by the side of the road for Benny’s pickup truck. Sam picked up after a few rings.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean said, aiming for nonchalant. “Just thought you should know your mate Ruby’s in town.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if y'all need trigger warnings on any of these chapters just holler cause I don't even know where to start for that. anyhoo, I think we all know what's coming....


	15. What the-

There was a silence on the other end of the line before Sammy replied, voice flat. “I really hope you’re joking, Dean.”

“Would never joke about that.”

Sam took a moment to absorb the information.“…Shit.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Dean said, and rubbed his temple with his free hand to try and relieve the pressure.

“Wait, how do you know she’s in town? Are you sure?”

“Remember that gift wine bottle that showed up at your office?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it might’ve been spiked with a shit-ton of Red and it also might’ve had a note on the underside of the bottle with her diamond on it, so yeah, pretty damned sure.”

“Holy shit, Dean!” Sam responded, “Did you drink it? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, a little bit, so I’m definitely feeling it. Pretty sure Benny is calling an ambulance right now.”

“Jesus, Dean!”

“I’ve had worse, though.” Dean said, but who really cared what size the car was when it was hitting you? It was still a car, hitting you.

“That’s comforting to hear.” Sam replied, bitchy.

“It should be.”

Sam sighed over the line. “Do you know how she found me?”

“No, but she’s been here since the start of the semester, maybe even before. You remember the case with Cas? The one with the alpha who had taken Red?”

Sam was quiet for a second. “You think she’s the new supplier for the Red that’s been showing up?” he asked, voice strained.

“Yeah. Sorry, man.”

“But why now? Why would she try to get me back on Red?”

“She’s your mate, Sam, so-“

“ _Was._ Jessica’s my mate now.” Sam corrected him sharply.

“Was your mate.” Dean said again, “And she still as hell wants to be, if last time was anything to go by.” Setting an apartment on fire to try and kill your exes girlfriend was definitely a big red flaming warning sign. Marked omegas usually had a hard time letting go of their alpha scent mates willingly, and vice versa, but Ruby was one crazy bitch besides. “She’s probably been lurking about, waiting to make a move and get you to go back to her-“ Sam made a rude noise at that. “-but then you suddenly had a bun in the oven with Jessica.”

“So she got desperate.” Sam finished. “Dean-“ he started to say, concerned. “If I’d had that wine- and she’d shown up-“

Dean saw Benny’s pickup truck turn sharply into the road in front of his apartment building, so he waved the arm that had been clutched around his stomach. “I know. Just watch out for Jessica, okay? I need to go.”

“Be safe.”

“You too.” Dean hung up the phone as Benny’s pickup truck pulled up to a stop in front of him. He jumped in and Benny was pulling away before Dean had shut the passenger side door.

“You look like shit.” Benny said, as a greeting.

“Feel like it.” Dean groaned. “Did you call that ambulance?”

Benny only nodded, eyes on the road in front of them as he drove. “On their way. You sure Castiel made it home?”

“God I hope so.”

“How the hell did you get Red in your drink?” Benny asked, still driving. The fast, sharp turns on the road did not help his nausea at all, so Dean took a minute to concentrate before he opened his mouth again.

“Long story. Tell you after.” The two short sentences were all he could manage before Dean put his forehead on the cold glass of the side window.

Benny chanced a concerned glance over. “I’ll hold ya to that.”

They made it to the Allen’s house without Dean trying to ralph up his guts again, and Benny parked on the other side of the road. The ambulance had yet to arrive, and they needed to give it the driveway when it did. Dean and Benny looked at each other.

“Stay right outside and I’ll yell if I need you?” Dean asked, and Benny nodded in reply. They got out of the car and crossed the street and up to the house. The lights were all on, which was promising, so Dean knocked on the door, Benny at his side. He swayed on his feet.

They only had to wait a moment before Daphne was opening the door, and her face turned from inviting to anxious in an instant.

“Is Cas home?” Dean asked before she could say anything.

“I- I don’t know.” Daphne replied, looking him over. “Are you okay, Dean? You’re very pale.”

“Peachy.” Dean said. “Cas? It’s an emergency.”

“He was supposed to have dinner with us right now but he didn’t show up.” Daphne answered, and paused, “Though I think I heard him come through the front door a while ago, so he’ll be up in his room if he’s-“

She had opened the door further, stepping out of the way, and Dean headed into the house towards the stairs before she could protest. “-Dean! Wait! What’s wrong?”

Dean climbed the stairs and paused – he didn’t know which room was Castiel’s - so he turned back to Daphne. “Which one is it?”

“The one at the end of the hall.” Daphne supplied, and Dean started walking fast again, “Wait, Dean-“ she repeated, and Dean reached the door. He tried the handle but the door was locked.

“It’s locked.” he said, stupidly, looking to Daphne.

“That means he’s in there. But he-” Daphne answered, and Dean knocked loudly on the door before she finished.

“Cas?” he called, “Cas, you in there?”

Daphne was still trying to talk to him, “Dean, you need to tell me why you’re here.”

Dean couldn’t hear a response with her talking, so he answered, “He was drugged.” Dean knocked on the door, louder this time. “Castiel! If you’re in there answer me or I swear to god I’ll kick this door down!”

“Go away!” That was definitely Cas. His voice was deeper and more strained than usual, like he was in pain. That was concerning.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine!” Cas said, still sounding strange. Dean didn’t believe him, not when so little had made him feel like death.

“Open the door and we’ll see about that.” Dean replied. “You don’t sound fine to me.”

Daphne put a hand on his arm, and he glanced over at her, distracted. “Dean, what was he drugged with?”

“Red. Like the alpha in the diner.”

That shocked her into silence for a moment, and Dean shifted on his feet in impatience and turned back. “C’mon man, open up!”

Daphne tugged on his arm again, “Dean, I think we should leave him alone.” There was a note of warning in her voice this time. Dean looked at her incredulously.

“Daphne, get him away from the door!” Cas yelled, and Dean looked down at the handle again, his eye snagging on the lock.

On a regular door, the turn for the lock was inside the room, obviously, but in places with alphas that had really bad ruts – the kind that all omegas feared – they had rooms that locked from the outside to keep the alpha from leaving and causing trouble. So it was definitely weird that a room in an omega safe-house would have this same lock. Huh. He could’ve walked in at any point if he’d noticed earlier.

Dean ignored Daphne’s insistent tugging and unlocked it, opening the door.

He couldn’t see anything at first, since no lights were on in the room, but once the door swung in further, the light from the hallway illuminated a section of the floor and the edge of the bed on the other side of the room. Sudden movement caught his eye – and Dean saw a very large flash of pale skin before a naked Cas managed to pull the sheet on the bed up to his chest.

“Dean, GET OUT!” Cas snarled, so Dean drew up short to inhale to talk back, and the _smell_.

What the fuck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, no more of this until next sunday cause god i need to stop writing and actually study


	16. Breakdown

Castiel barely had time to grab the corner of a sheet to cover himself before the door to his room swung open, revealing Dean and Daphne, silhouetted by the light in the hall. He couldn’t see their faces, and they wouldn’t be able to see him very well either, but the smell within the room would give him away instantly.

“Dean, GET OUT!” he shouted, futilely trying to stop this from happening, but Dean had already frozen in the open doorway. This couldn’t be happening – not with this rut, not now, not when the influence of alpha instincts weighed so heavy and made him itch with need, his mind sluggish and hazy. Something was wrong – he’d known that within the first hour – this rut was _too strong_. It made Castiel feel out-of-control, impatient and restless, the need burning up all rational thought that could get in the way of satisfying it. Which he had been doing up until Dean had interrupted; he was still flushed from the exertion, and he couldn’t slow his heart from the thrumming pace it had plateaued to. _Invite them in_ , a part of his mind whispered, sliding into conscious thought, and Castiel gritted his teeth.

He needed the two omegas out of this room, immediately.

“DAPHNE!” Castiel roared, his alpha timbre bleeding into the words. “OUT!”

The command seemed to break both of them out of their strange pause, and Daphne grabbed Dean’s arm in a tight grip and dragged him back. Dean did not resist, and Castiel desperately wished he could see Dean’s face, but the light behind him made it impossible to see any detail, and then the door closed.

There was a beat of silence after Castiel heard the _snick_ of the lock sliding into place. “What the fuck.” Dean said, voice muffled through the door. Castiel groaned and lay back down on the bed, throwing an arm over his face. He dreaded this conversation already.

“Dean,” Daphne said, obviously trying to placate him, “we-“

“You _knew_?!?” Dean cut her off, voice rising. “What- I- he can’t be in here!”

“Yes he can, Dean. I think we should talk downstairs and call Jess, get this sorted out, okay? You should sit down, you don’t look so-“

“I’m fine!” Dean bit out, but Castiel’s attention had turned to another sound, one outside the house and getting closer.

“What about Castiel? Is he-“ Castiel’s head turned sharply to the window, and he sat up, not paying attention to the two outside his door anymore.

Sirens. Coming this way.

No. They couldn’t - why were they coming here? Was it the police? Had Dean called someone? Castiel bolted to his dresser on shaky legs and dropped down to feel the underneath. When his fingers encountered the familiar shape, he grabbed and pulled, breaking the tape from the wooden underside and revealing a small leather pouch, which he strung around his neck. The sirens were very close, noticeable to even a T-3, and Daphne paused in the middle of speaking as Castiel hurriedly pulled on some pants.

“…Is that an ambulance?” Dean didn’t reply with words, but he did something that had Daphne muttering something before raising her voice. “Castiel, it's just an ambulance, please don’t do anything stupid!” Castiel paused at that, but shrugged on a T-shirt the rest of the way, eying the window. “Castiel, you hear me?”

Frustrated, he pressed the heel of a hand to his temple. He couldn’t _think_. This drug erased everything except base instincts. No, that wasn't right, not erasing. Just forcing inhibitions down, and nothing else seemed more important anymore, not when it was almost physically painful not to give in. He just wanted-

He shook himself out of it. Castiel didn’t want to lose this new life he had, but if the others caught even a trace of him, it was over. If that meant leaving it now while incapacitated, he would do it, even if he had to crawl out.

“Please, Castiel,” Daphne sounded very concerned now, “you hear me? Just wait a little longer.”

“I hear you.” Castiel finally said, but he walked over to the window anyways, rested his hands on the frame, still uncertain. The siren cut off into silence, and Castiel’s hands tightened on the window frame. His breath fogged the window as he heard Daphne run down the stairs. The heavier, slower thumps of Dean’s feet followed her after a long second.

It was torture to hold off the rut for a just a little bit longer, and he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed as close to the window as possible, a bead of sweat dripping down the hollow of his back. It still smelled like sex in here, courtesy of himself, and he shifted uncomfortably. Castiel hadn’t heard anyone come up the stairs yet, although he still heard the faint tone of voices downstairs, maybe if he was fast, he could-

 

“Castiel?” came Daphne’s voice, hesitant from just outside the door.

Castiel jerked in surprise, pulling his hand out of his pants and opening his eyes. He hadn’t noticed doing either, or heard Daphne coming up the stairs.

“Yes?” he asked, warily.

“The paramedics want to ask you some questions to make sure you’re okay, is that alright? They’ll stay out of the room.”

“…Yes, that's alright.” Castiel replied.

Quieter, Daphne said, "Castiel, are you-"

"I'll be fine, Daphne." he told her, and closed his eyes again.

He heard her leave and then found himself on his back, listening to a new voice, when he concentrated again. “- a few questions for me, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel said.

“Alright then. What’s your name?”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean left the Allen’s house in the passenger side of Benny’s truck, heading straight for Sammy’s house. Nothing to do but to make sure Dean had enough fluids to ride the rest of the drug out, and he’d seen the ambulance off, empty-handed, after the paramedic had declared Castiel stable enough to leave to his own devices. Disturbing an alpha in a rut was not the safest course of action ever, and with Red it was doubly less so.

Dean glanced over cursorily at Benny from his slump in the passenger seat before looking back at the road. His leg bounced on the floorboards. “Well?” he snapped, “Spit it out, Benny. The good ‘I told you so’ and all that shit.”

Benny’s eyes flicked over to him before going back to the road. “I wasn’t gonna say anythin’,” he said, and that was that.

 

Sam and Jess were already waiting outside when Benny pulled up – he’d texted them during the drive over, and they approached the car with almost identical faces of concern.

“Man, you look terrible.” Sammy said, as soon as Dean opened the car door.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Dean grunted, but his gaze was already on Jess. “Seems like we need to have a talk.”

Jess nodded as Benny got out of the driver’s seat. “Yeah, seems like. Daphne called and told me what happened already. Follow me.” She led the way into the house.

All four, Jess, Sam, Benny, and Dean, found themselves sitting around the kitchen table minutes later. Dean had been supplied with a soda, which he had almost complained about until Jess had hit him with a stare, and he had subsided.

“So,” Jess started as she sat down, “you probably want to know why an alpha like Castiel can legally work in an omega safe-house.”

Sam almost did a double-take. Obviously he had not heard the new developments of the night. “What?! Castiel is an alpha?” he turned his gaze to Dean. “But you said-“

“I know what I freakin’ said!” Dean growled, and Sam pulled back.

“Jeez, okay. Sorry.” Sam looked between Benny and Dean and his eyes bugged out a little. “Wait, you said he took all that Red – was he-?”

“Dean walked in on ‘im in the safe-house, yeah.” Benny answered.

Sam turned to Jess. “In the _safe-house_? And they just left him there?”

Jess just shrugged. “Daphne told me he’s not in danger from an overdose, and he’s allowed to live in the safe-house, even in the middle of a rut. They have a special locked room that he has to stay in, but yeah.” Jess looked to Dean again. “I’m assuming you know about the Mischel test?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course I freakin know the Mischel test.”

Progressive alphas during the last turn of the century had made up an experiment that tested an alpha's ability to resist their instincts, and was used to gauge which alphas could work in environments where temptation was nearby, like in hospitals or the police force. An alpha had to get above a certain score, but Dean didn’t know exactly what the test consisted of, no one did except the alphas who took it, and all of them remained tight-lipped about it. Sammy had taken the test, not because it was required of him, but because he had wanted to, and Dean couldn’t even get any info out of him or Benny. But even people who had taken the Mischel test couldn’t step foot in a safe-house.

Jess looked at him. “What if I told you that he passed it?”

“Whadd’ya mean, passed it?” Dean questioned, looking to Benny and Sam. “Didn’t you guys?”

Sammy leaned back in his chair and blinked. “ _Jesus_."

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Benny muttered, almost admirably.

A flash of anger shot through Dean, and he scowled. “Can someone start explaining?” Dean asked, irritable.

Benny glanced over at Sam before looking at Dean again. “I don’t know how to explain it without tellin’ ya.”

“Then just tell me.”

Benny shook his head. “No can do, brother.”

Sammy jumped in. “It’s a confidentiality thing,” he said, “but really, no one wants to talk about it after, Dean. The score we get, um, it’s a score on the ability to resist, right?” Dean nodded in response, so Sam went on. “Thing is, almost everyone gives in eventually. And when I mean almost everyone, if you pass and don’t give in, there’s a list that they get on, and they can pretty much do whatever they damn well please. If you want a comparison, think Martin Luther King Junior. He was one of the first on that list when they spearheaded the movement in the US.”

“So what, suddenly the guy is above all reproach?"

They all ignored him, and Dean crossed his arms and huffed as Sam turned to Jessica. “But I would’ve seen his name on-“ he paused and thought it through, “unless Castiel wanted anonymity and used a different name.”

Jess nodded. “He went through multiple other tests as well, but luckily we had precedence with other alpha volunteers who’ve worked in omega safe-houses before. But that’s the only thing I’m telling you three, and _it doesn’t leave this table_. I made a serious breach of confidentiality with this, so you all better be grateful.” The last part was directed at Dean, but Dean looked down and dragged his thumb against the condensation on the soda can in front of him instead of meeting her gaze.

“Dean,” Jess said, and Dean glanced back up at her. “I know you don't like that Castiel was hiding his alpha status _,_ but I told him myself to keep his status from anyone who didn’t already know. There are fewer complications that way. Usually.”

"Yeah, well, key word there is usually."

“Castiel found out about Dean last week.” Benny supplied.

Sam let out an understanding, "Oh", and traded a look with Jess. When Dean glared at Benny, the man only shrugged, unrepentant.

“So what are we going to do about Ruby?” Dean asked, effectively changing the subject, and Sam glanced worriedly at Jess, and back to Dean.

“I don’t know, Dean.” Sam finally said, leaning back and running a hand through his hair, visibly upset. “You’re the officer here. I couldn’t stop her last time, so what the hell can we do this time to stop her from doing something worse?”

Jess reached over and slid one of her hands into Sam's.

Dean looked away, towards Benny. “I think we should go talk to Bobby. I’ll call and tell him to meet us at the station. Sound good?”

Benny eyed him. “I don’t think Ruby will try anythin’ tonight, and you need’ta rest. I say wait and talk to Bobby first thing tomorrow.”

Dean sighed and glanced back at Jess and Sam. “Fine. I’m staying the night here, though,” he said, addressing the other two, and they nodded. Jess looked down at the can in Dean’s hands, quirking an eyebrow when she looked back up.

“Now drink your Sprite, Dean.”

“ _Fine_.” Dean muttered, bringing it to his lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. So about that 'every weekend' thing... I might be an inconsistent motherfucker. Time to catch up!


	17. Sam Winchester

May 23rd, Four years ago

Sam got the call at 11:30 in the morning on a Saturday. He was doing what he usually always did on a Saturday morning; folding the laundry he had done earlier while listening to NPR (not that he would ever let Dean know about that unless he _wanted_ to be made fun of for the rest of his life – at least Jess thought it was cute).

He didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was where John and Dean were living at the moment, so he turned off the radio and answered it. “Hello?”

“Hello? Is this” there was a quick pause before the feminine voice went on, “Sam Winchester? Dean’s brother?”

“Yes? Who is this?”

“My name is Marjorie, I’m a nurse in the ICU at the Mercy Hospital in Des Moines, where we’re looking after your father?” John had been in a coma for the past couple months, ever since he had gotten into a terrible car accident, but Dean was the one that was there, so why-?

Sam frowned, but she went on before he could respond, “Your father’s status hasn’t changed at all, but I’m, um, I’m actually calling you about your brother.”

“Dean? Did something happen to him? Is he at the hospital?” Sam got off his bed, laundry forgotten.

“No,” Marjorie said, drawing it out strangely, “well, um, we actually wanted to move John to a long-term care facility since he’s stabilized, but we haven’t been able to contact Dean in a few days. He usually comes by at least every other day, but…” she trailed off, uncertain, before asking, “have you talked to him recently?”

“No, I haven’t.” Dean had called him only once when John had gotten in the accident, but when he’d found out that Sam wouldn’t even fly home to see John, maybe for the last time, there’d been another fallout. Sam had gotten one text after that when John had mostly stabilized, but nothing else since. Of course he still cared about Dean, but Sam had seen no point in caring about John after everything.

The nurse had called him as next of kin after Dean, since he was currently unavailable, and after Sam had finished his talk to square everything away, a pit of worry started to form in his gut. That wasn’t like Dean at all. He couldn’t be anything other than unswervingly loyal to their father. Sam stared at his phone. Should he call Dean?

While he was deciding, Sam put down the phone on the bed and folded the rest of the laundry, but this time he left the radio off.

He called Dean.

Left three messages.

Called Dean two more times.

The pit of worry got bigger and heavier, burning a hole of uneasiness into his stomach. Maybe - maybe he was really busy at the garage, maybe he lost his phone. Sam emailed him after another hour.

Six hours after the call from Marjorie and he was pacing the hall. He’d called Dean’s work only to find that he hadn’t shown up in days, and now Sam was certain.

Something was wrong.

 

Two days later, Sam realized he didn’t have a damned key. He checked the top of the door frame, under the mat, in the porch light cover, every rock in the front yard, and just gave up on finding a spare and lock-picked the front door open. His childhood had been good for some things at least.

The house was dark and silent, and there were no new scents besides the grossness of the kitchen sink, and a half-evaporated cup of coffee on the table, but the faint smell of Dean, and slight traces of John, permeated the house. It was obvious that Dean hadn’t been home in a week at least, and the Impala was absent from her spot in the garage.

Sam searched the house for any clues, but the only worrying thing he found were opened medical bills on the table, and Dean’s laptop, sitting patiently on his bed. Sam made his way back to the living room and collapsed on the couch, chest tight with the worry that had not left him in days.

“Where are you, Dean?” he murmured, but there was no one there that could hear him.

 

Early the next day, Sam found himself at the hospital, staring down at his father for the first time in four years. He didn’t even look like the same man anymore. Sam had always remembered John as a tall, imposing alpha, still hard edges and unbending lines, but the man in front of him was not that. He was thinner now, frailer, with lines of greying hair, his face was slack with permanent sleep. Had Dean noticed? Had he worried, like he always did? Sam could see Dean sitting in the chair by John’s still, white form, waiting like a soldier, maybe not believing John would ever wake up, but always hoping. But he wasn’t there now.

Sam shook his head and ducked out of the room, looking to talk to Marjorie in person. Luckily, a matronly nurse with the name-tag _Ellie_ pointed him in the right direction when he asked, and he found Marjorie with no other problems, still in the coma ward.

She was so short, she almost didn’t even come up to his chest in height; small even for a beta. She had black hair and bronze skin, which contrasted with the white of her teeth when she smiled briefly as he introduced himself.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” she said, “Dean talked about you all the time.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Marjorie waved a hand, “No! Not- he’s a big flirt – all the nurses come by and chat when he visits your father.”

“Sounds like him.”

“So I’m assuming you haven’t heard from him since you talked with me.”

“…No.” Sam admitted, and Marjorie deflated and chewed her lip in worry. “Did you notice anything off about him? Or has anything strange or different happen recently?”

Marjorie started to shake her head, “Dean was the same as always,” she said, and then paused. “I don’t know if this is what you’re looking for, but something new did happen. All of John’s medical bills are now being paid by a relative of yours.” She tapped her chin, “Um, what was his name? He had the same first name as you, but a different last name than you two, - Cooper? No… Campbell, I think it was.” Samuel Campbell? _Mom’s_ father? Sam blinked. John had never mentioned that they still had living relatives. This kept getting stranger and stranger.

“Do you have a phone number for him?”

“I would hope so.” Marjorie replied. “Follow me.” She turned and walked in the opposite direction, and Sam obediently trailed behind her. They passed another room and Sam suddenly found himself slowing, and he glanced in, his eyes landing on another still form, dark hair laying across white pillows.

“You coming?” Marjorie called back, and Sam turned forward again.

“…Yeah.” he said, slowly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up, everyone - this is gonna be a long and twisty road, lemme tell you


	18. Sam Winchester, II

It took Marjorie a bit of time to dig up the phone number from their records, but once she found it she wrote it down on a hot pink post-it note and handed it to Sam from over the desk without any prompting. “I hope this helps,” Marjorie told him, the sides of her mouth quirking up for a second in one of those quick empathetic smiles, not meant to show happiness.

Sam nodded and took the proffered post-it note. “Thank you, Marjorie,” Sam said, but he was already turning from the desk, eyes dropping to the hastily scrawled digits. He didn’t recognize the area code, couldn’t remember if he’d seen it before. Sam didn’t even tuck the piece of paper away, he just waved at Marjorie and walked outside the hospital and into the parking lot before taking out his phone and punching in the number.

He paced a bit on the sidewalk as it rang, and rang, and rang without being answered, but just as Sam was waiting for the voicemail to start up, the ringing stopped, replaced by a voice.

“Hello?” said the man on the other end of the line, and Sam stopped pacing.

“Hello? Is this Samuel Campbell?”

There was a pause on the other line, “…No. This is Christian Campbell, his nephew. Who’s this?”

They had cousins? How many family members did he not know about? “My name’s Sam Winchester, I’m calling about-“

“Holy shit, you Dean’s brother? The alpha?” the man interrupted, and Sam paused.

“Yeah, I’m actually-“

“Hold on, lemme find Samuel really quick. You’ll want to talk to him first.” Sam frowned and opened his mouth, but the muffled noise of a hand being placed over the receiver stopped him. Sam sighed, relegated to waiting for this Christian to find Samuel. He scuffed his shoe against the sidewalk, hitting a pebble and watching it clatter over the curb to the pavement below.

Not more than a minute later, there was more noise as the phone was handled again. “Sam? Sam Winchester?” This was a gruffer voice, definitely older than the other man.

“Yes?”

“I’m Samuel Campbell, Mary’s father. Your grandfather. It’s nice to finally meet you, son.”

“Likewise.” Sam replied, but he didn’t feel as pleased as Samuel sounded. “I didn’t know we had any relatives still around.”

Samuel sighed on the other end of the line. “Yes, your father was never my biggest fan, and after your mother died, he refused to let me see you or your brother.”

Okay, that did sound like John, but Sam ignored asking for the reason. “So you’ve met Dean, then?”

“Yeah, once we heard John had fallen into a coma, we thought we might finally be able to meet you two, reunite the family. We met Dean a month ago, I believe.”

“We?”

“That’s exactly what your brother asked too,” Samuel chuckled. “Besides me, you also have four cousins, well, second cousins since they’re all my two younger sibling’s kids. Three of those four are married, and two have kids as well.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. That was a lot of family for a person who’d had almost none before. But he’d still had family, albeit small. “Have you seen or talked to Dean in the past few days?”

“No, can’t say I have. Last I saw him was last week, after he found out, well, found out we were paying for your fathers medical bills. Why do you ask?”

“He’s disappeared. The hospital called me, said Dean hadn’t shown up in a while, and he hasn’t shown up to work in days either. I went to his house yesterday to find it empty. Something happened to him.”

“Where are you right now? Are you in Des Moines?”

“Yeah, I flew out to find Dean. I’m going to the police station to file a missing person’s report this afternoon.”

“I think you should hold off on that to tomorrow,” Samuel said, and Sam bristled in response.

“You better have a good reason to say that to me,” Sam growled, making an elderly lady walking by put a little more space between them.

“I only mean – look, we found out last week that Dean’s an omega, and that’s when we decided to pay the bills, since he was struggling with them, and he got very upset. I’m currently in Des Moines for business with two of my nephews, have been for the last couple months, which is how we found you two in the first place. Can we meet tonight to talk, in person?”

“Fine.” Sam replied. “Where?”

 

After ending the call, Sam made his way back to John’s room one last time. He didn’t trust this Samuel Campbell, even if he was related by blood, and he sure as hell wasn't going to put off filing a missing persons report because of his say-so. Sam had been hoping to make his interviews next weekend, but he couldn’t just put off looking for Dean and just hope for the best. He knew Dean would do the same for him, even if they hadn’t been on speaking terms in years. Sam would just have to call Jessica, and tell her he would have to stay in Des Moines for the foreseeable future, make it up to her when he got back.

He walked by the same room as before, and slowed down again, without really thinking about it. It was quiet, like most of the coma ward usually was, and before he realized what he was doing, Sam slipped into the room.

What was he doing? Sam inhaled, and caught the faint scent of _something_ over the strong smells of disinfectant. God, what _was_ that? It almost-

Sam froze when his eyes found the still form of the woman from earlier. No. It couldn’t be.

But when he inhaled again, that same omega scent washed over him. Oh, God. It was just like John had told them about, that first time he met Mary, that same reaction to the other person.

Sam was frozen in place, and it took his brain a long time for another thought to crash into this new feeling. _Jess_.

They hadn’t seriously talked about long term plans, what would happen if one of them met their scent-mate (though the odds of that were slim to none; Jess’s parents weren’t, and although Sam’s parents had been, he knew their marriage had been on shaky ground at the end). Sometimes he thought he worried too much about it, but now the worst was happening-

But she was in a coma, right? Maybe she would never wake up, and Sam could just leave this room and never look back. But could he be satisfied with knowing that he had met his scent-mate, and just settled for-

Her eyelids fluttered. The sounds coming from the machine by her side changed tempo.

Sam should walk out, right now, but he found he couldn’t move. He could only watch as she stilled for another second, and then she was jerking into a sitting position, eyes snapping open as she gasped for air, like she just woke up from a nightmare.

She noticed him immediately, ignoring the nurses that had appeared behind Sam. “So, handsome, who do I have to kill to get some french fries around here?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whelp, these two chapters could have been just one since they're so short. damn you, hindsight! (guess I'm making it up for you guys in the next chapter)


	19. Dean Winchester

May 17th, Four Years Ago

“That bastard.” Dean growled out, eyes on the medical bill in front of him. It had only been a few days since those douchebags claiming to be family had shown up at the house unannounced, making themselves at home, and that asshole Christian had poked his nose in where it didn’t belong to find out he was an omega. Hadn’t thought he’d need to hide his stuff in his own house, but obviously that was a mistake.

Samuel had approached him months ago, surprising him with the knowledge of so many new family members, but they hadn’t ever shown up at his place before. They’d been nice and accepting up to that point, and a lot overbearing, but once Christian had announced the news to Samuel and Mark, leering all the while at Dean, well.

Samuel had told him before that they were descendants of an old clan right outside the Preserves, but their relationship to the Old World, so to speak, had turned a bit sour once T-1’s had vanished from their bloodline, leaving them like the rest of modern society. Their family was apparently still a trading point between the two worlds, so it wasn’t surprising that they were all classist assholes, and the worst kind of traditionalists imaginable. Samuel had demanded that they get in contact with Sam, and that Dean had to go back with them, leave the house and his job as a mechanic, like he couldn’t take care of himself, wasn’t fit to.

Dean had impolitely told them all to fuck off.

They’d left at the time, but now his two jerk-off cousins, Christian the alpha and Mark the beta, were lurking around the edges, showing up when Dean least wanted them to; at work, in the parking garage of the hospital, at his own freaking house. Dean didn’t respond well to intimidation tactics. If they thought they could cow him into submission, they had another thing coming.

In fact, this was the last freaking straw. Dean slammed the medical bills down on the table and stood up, the chair wobbling crazily as it was pushed back. Paying Dad’s medical bills? Hell. No. No way were they allowed to meddle in his life like this. He needed to nip this thing in the ass before it got worse.

Dean glanced out the window to find the sun setting already, rust colored hues slowly bleeding darker; it was evening, but he wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow to finally confront Samuel, and this definitely needed to be face-to-face. Dean wasn’t even going to give him a warning call. Not like he could, anyway. He’d deleted Samuel’s number already. He shrugged on a jacket and snatched his keys from the front hall, slamming the door behind him as he made his way to the Impala. As soon as Dean got in and started the engine, he was pulling out of the driveway and driving west, heading towards the Campbell warehouse.

The family business was trade, and the Campbells had a big warehouse on the edge of town that they used to move and ship goods to and from the Preserves, and the three practically lived and worked there all hours of the day. Dean had gotten the tour when they had first met, and he’d been surprised that the Preserves did any trading at all, but the amount of stuff in the warehouse had been staggering. Wood, vast quantities of food, textiles, medicine, machinery, the list went on and on.

It was dark when he arrived, and he pulled his Baby off the main road and into the edge of the parking lot on one of the sides of the warehouse. On the back of the warehouse there was a metal door that led straight to the Campbell’s offices and living area, just on the sides of one of the loading docks. The metal door was always locked, Samuel had told him, but there was an intercom just outside, affixed to the wall just to the side of it, and it was his best bet of getting in, so Dean slid out of Baby and locked her before walking to the back side of the warehouse, deciding which insult to use first.

A muffled noise stopped him before he could turn the corner. He paused, and there it was again- a human voice - it sounded like-

There was a sharp, loud sound, flesh on flesh, and a sliver of ice went up Dean’s spine. He could barely make out another voice, low and threatening, from where he was standing. “Shut. Up.”

Christian.

Dean didn’t make a sound as he crept to the very edge of the building, and he carefully looked around the corner, jacket lightly scraping against the rough wall.

The floodlights were off, and only a single orange bulb shone light on the loading dock, where a van had been parked. The silhouettes of two men were dragging a smaller, unresisting form between them towards the door, and Dean heard faint whimpering sounds before the other man’s head moved, and Dean ducked behind cover again.

After a few more moments he poked his head around the corner again to see the three vanish into the blackness of an open doorway. They didn’t close the door behind them.

Dean only had a short window of time before someone came back, but he still hesitated.

Oh, this was a bad idea.

He checked for any other observers, and finding none, ran for the open door, crouching low. His shoes scritched against the pavement, and then he was passing the orange light and into the darkness of the warehouse.

Dean ducked to the side, trying to let his eyes adjust, and he heard voices to his right, becoming fainter and more distant. He followed them down that hallway, making sure not to trip over or run into anything, and he eventually came to a set of stairs leading down into a basement. He couldn’t hear them anymore, but basements and kidnapping sorta went hand-in-hand, so he quickly descended the stairs. To his left, he heard footsteps approaching his way, and he darted to the right, into a darkened closet filled with broken, dusty equipment. He almost tripped over the vacuum but managed to stop himself just in time, hiding in the shadows.

Two distinct footsteps passed by him, walking slowly back up the stairs. One hesitated on the stairs for a brief second, and Dean’s heart seemed to stop in response, and he held his breath, but then they were moving on down the upper hallway, and the moment passed. Dean sighed in relief. He waited until he heard the faint slam of a door before he crept out again, heading in the direction they had come from.

There was another, smaller storage room than the one up above, filled with small packages that he didn’t recognize, and Dean hesitantly made his way through it to the other side, and he heard another whimper. The sound drew his eye to the door to his right, and he soundlessly pushed it open a bit to slip through.

This room wasn’t as bright as the hallway, it only had one dim light hanging from the ceiling, but it was enough to see the girl, an omega now that he was close enough to scent her, huddling in a cage. The hair rose on the back of his neck when his eyes darted around the room. She was the only one in the room besides him, but there were more than a dozen other cages, empty and waiting, and the room was drenched in the smells of fear and desperation. He knew what this was, every omega did. It made Dean break out in a cold sweat just being in here.

Omega trafficking. Dean's stomach turned as he remembered what Samuel had called his job. Acquisitions. Fuck.

He dropped in front of the cage, and the girl stared at him with large, glassy eyes, still bound and gagged. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” he whispered to her, and fumbled his wallet out for the lock-pick kit he always carried with him. It came in handy at the best of times.

Dean saw her scramble back from the corner of his eyes and cry out again, and he glanced up to see her looking terrified over his shoulder.

Oh fu-

He felt something collide with the side of his head, and consciousness went out like a light.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. There was more backstory. Anywho, we'll get back to the present in the next (really long) chapter. Hope the flashback chapters weren't too bad!  
> Also, if you wanna bother me some or say hello or something, I made a tumblr since everyone is doing it! (Same name as here, so starmouse123)


	20. Double Trouble

Present Day

When Dean opened his eyes, he had a moment of confusion, flailing under the blanket over him before he placed himself. Then he wished he hadn’t moved at all when his skull felt a size too small for his throbbing brain. Dean groaned and clutched his head, but he still made himself sit upright on the couch. He was pretty sure the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen had woken him up, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t want to sleep anymore. Anytime he was drugged or sick, he had weird-ass dreams, the kind that felt like losing your balance, or like watching marbles roll across a tilted surface. Not nightmares, but just, unsettling. Dean hated them.

He drained the rest of the glass of water that had been placed on the table just to the side of the couch and winced as he finally stood up. He was too tall to be sleeping on anyone’s couch, but he hadn’t wanted to sleep in the guest bedroom so far away from the front door. Just in case. Dean made his way to the kitchen and saw Jess getting out a carton of eggs from the fridge, still unaware of his presence. She was humming to herself, and he couldn’t help but smile and pass the kitchen by on his way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. She’d stop if she knew he was there and conscious, so Dean made sure he made as little noise as possible. Once he finished and walked back into the kitchen, sure enough, Jess had stopped humming.

“Morning, Dean., she said over her shoulder. “Feeling better?”

“Mornin’,” Dean replied, sitting down. “And yes.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Should’ve woken me up earlier.” It was obvious she’d been up for a while, and that they’d let him sleep way longer than he had wanted to. “Where’s Sammy?”

“Morning run.”

“Ugh.” What was wrong with him? It was a Sunday morning, for Christ’s sake. Dean shook his head and pulled out his phone to text Benny that he was up and kicking. They’d called Bobby last night to tell him what had happened, since it hadn’t been too much past his bedtime, and they were meeting him at the station today, but Dean still needed to collect the wine bottle back at his place for evidence before that. Maybe even take another shower and put on some new clothes as well.

Jess cooked an omelet for each of them – and Dean just hung around and watched her do so. If he offered to do it for her, she’d slap him with a spatula. He could tell she wanted to bring up the conversation from last night, but she had so far managed to keep it to herself. That didn't last too much longer. She got half-way through eating before she stopped and just looked at him. Oh no. “Dean-“

“Jess,” Dean groaned. “Can we not?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jess said. “I’m not going to tell you that you should like him or anything. Just try to not tell anyone else about Castiel. I can’t pick sides because he _is_ part of my program, but I’m also part of your family, and you’re part of mine, so I’m doing what I can, okay?”

Dean blinked. “I – yeah. Okay.”

“I just don’t want you to think that we’d choose Castiel over you,” Jess finished, frustrated.

They sat in silence for a beat. “Thanks Jess,” Dean murmured, touching her shoulder, and she nodded.

The front door opened and closed, and a sweaty Sam walked by through the hallway, waving at both of them since he still had his earbuds in. Dean wrinkled his nose, glad Sammy wasn’t stopping to greet them before his shower.

As soon as they had both eaten, Dean couldn't help but fidget his leg and glance at Jess. ”What would-“ he said, but stopped. Jess looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “I was just thinking,” Dean started again. “What would you do if you met your scent mate?”

Jess stared hard at him for a minute, like she was figuring him out, and Dean looked down and became very interested in his fork. “It’s only biology,” she replied, slowly. “Very powerful biology, and it works most of the time, but there are more things to a relationship than that. My parents never met theirs, and they’ve lived a long, happy life together despite of it, and Ruby-“ her mouth twisted at the name, “she was never good for Sam. It doesn’t stop people from making bad decisions.” She didn’t bring up John and Mary, and Dean was grateful for that.

“So if you met him on a bus or something-“ Dean hypothesized, and Jess waved it off.

“I’d walk off the bus. I’m not giving up my life with Sam for an unknown, no matter what people tell me.” She sounded so sure of herself. If only Sam had chosen that, Dean thought, and instantly felt guilty.

 

Benny picked him up twenty minutes later and drove him back to his apartment, and Dean got ready for the day after carefully placing the note and the wine bottle into evidence bags (it never hurt to have them around, even when off-duty). Dean gave Benny the low-down on Ruby while he could. He’d known about Sam’s addiction, since they’d met in NA meetings before, but not that his scent mate had been a part of it all. And that she’d tried to kill Jess by setting her apartment on fire. That usually raised a few eyebrows.

Soon enough, they were heading towards the station, Dean finally in his Baby, out of Benny’s beast of a truck. It was Bobby’s day off, but he met them out front, arms crossed. “Sounds like you had an eventful night.” Bobby told him, and Dean held up the evidence bags and waggled his eyebrows.

“Alcohol and illegal substances were involved. It was a freaking party.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “C’mon, you two. We can talk in my office.”

Once they'd dropped off the evidence bags, they moved to Bobby’s office, and Dean told him everything. Bobby looked damned surprised when Dean got to the part about Castiel, but otherwise stayed impassive, putting his feet up on the edge of his desk and leaning back in his chair, fingers laced over his stomach.

“So you think Ruby is behind this new supply of Red,” Bobby stated, after Dean finished talking.

Dean nodded. “She was Sam’s supplier when they were in Des Moines, but it’s a family business thing. From what Sammy told me, her father is a big name in drug rings all over the place.”

“We should work on pinning her with possession charges instead of waitn’ on her to make a move on Jess,” Benny supplied, and Bobby nodded.

“It’d be damned convenient if she was the mystery-“ Bobby acknowledged, but a knock on his closed office door cut him off. Dean glanced back at the door as Bobby sighed in exasperation. “What is it?”

The door opened a fraction and Garth stuck his head in. “Hi guys! I’m going around getting rid of the rest of the donuts I brought in from Church this morning, and you three are looking mighty stressed in here.” The white box slid into the room as Garth leaned further in. “They’re _Krispy Kreme,_ ” he whispered, and Dean perked up in interest.

“Jesus.” Bobby muttered under his breath, as Dean snagged the last one with the rainbow sprinkles. “Get outta here, Garth," Bobby said, louder this time, and Garth saluted him with his free hand before he closed the door behind him.

Dean took a big bite out of his and faced forward again, to find the other two just looking at him. “Whu?” Dean tried to say, defensively, but there was too much donut to talk around.

 

After they hammered out a game plan, Benny went straight home, but Dean hung around for a little while longer, even though he wasn’t supposed to. Although he hadn't been given the task to research the drug-related attacks, since they had more experienced officers who worked in narcotics, Dean couldn’t help himself. He spent some time looking up the alpha perps, but he couldn’t find any commonality at first glance. Somehow this led to googling the effects of Red on betas and omegas, then the Mischel test (and sure enough saw an entry half a year ago for a ‘John Doe’).

With a sigh, Dean leaned the side of his face against his hand a little to hard, knuckles pressing into his cheekbone, debating. What was the worst that could happen? He wasn't expecting this next search to work, anyways. Dean pulled up the same search as last time, put in Castiel Novak, and got the same result of last time. Nothing. Google provided the same result, so he went back to looking up the Preserves. There wasn't a ton of info about them, but the Preserves had only formed a hundred something years ago, so it wasn't as though they could be _that_ different compared to life in America pre-civil war, right?

Why the hell would an alpha ever leave? Was it because of an alpha spat? Or maybe Castiel was a wolf-killer, and had been driven out and exiled.

But that didn’t explain everything. Why would he hide his freaking _scent_ like an omega? It didn’t make any sense. Dean didn’t know why, but he felt betrayed by the fact, and it might’ve been hypocritical but hell if he cared. It wouldn't ruin Castiel's life if he went without it, like it would Dean's.

Whatever. He had a few more days to figure something out, since Castiel wasn't going anywhere anytime soon since his rut had been jumpstarted by-

A hand came down on his shoulder and Dean almost jumped straight out of his seat. " _Jesus-_ " He jerked his head up to find Bobby glaring back, and hurriedly closed out of his browser.

“Heyyy Bobby, I thought you were going straight home,” he said, as Bobby kept glaring.

“I thought you were doin’ the same. It’s supposed to be your day off.” Bobby told him, tone threatening. Dean had done this enough that Bobby was getting a sixth sense about it. Dammit.

“Yep, nope, I- I am leaving right now,” Dean replied, and logged out.

 

Dean hadn’t forgotten about Charlie, either, so when he made it back to his apartment building, he headed straight to her place. She’d definitely be interested in his news, and he had to find out if she really had broken up with Gilda. Long distance relationships were hard work, especially for people who weren't scent mates. And by the look on Charlie’s face when she opened the door, it had been too much work.

“I hope you have alcohol and ice cream available,” Dean said, and Charlie gave him a wobbly smile. They hugged it out in the doorway.

“Sorry I didn’t answer your calls,” she replied against his shoulder. “Did I miss something important?” At that, Dean pushed her back slightly to look her in the eyes.

“Jesus, Charlie, have I got a story for you.”

 

His two days off went by like normal, despite the recent craziness. Dean spent the rest of the first day holed up with Charlie, marathoning her favorite TV shows late into the night. When he finally made it outside the next day, Dean noticed a few leaves already changing color. He'd been so busy he hadn't even paid attention, but it was hardly surprising for late September. Sam and Jess remained on high alert because of Ruby, but unfortunately it wasn’t something that could be resolved in a few days. Dean hadn’t called Daphne at all, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe he’d have Benny field that particular conversation.

Lulled by the seeming normalcy, Dean wasn't prepared for things to get weirder as soon as he was back in the station for work the next morning, when Bobby called him to his office, but such was his life. He didn’t really think much of it until he entered Bobby’s office to find him on the phone, half turned away, listening. When Dean walked in, Bobby turned to face Dean, a peculiar expression on his face. That put Dean on high alert. "Of course. Yes, here he is.” Bobby said, and passed the phone to Dean.

Dean looked at the phone and back to Bobby before he put it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Is this Officer Dean Winchester?” The voice on the other end was a male voice, but he didn’t identify himself.

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you responsible for the search on a Castiel Novak three days ago?”

What in the hell was happening? How did they know that? “…Yes, sir.”

“And could you tell me why you searched for that particular name?”

“Uhh…there was a man in one of my cases with that name, but-“

“Dark hair? Blue eyes?”

“Yeah, how-“

“You saw him? In person?” suddenly the voice was a lot sharper, more intense.

“Yes?” A foreboding cold crept into his chest.

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Yeah, he lives in town.”

“Listen to me very carefully,” the man on the line said. “Do not tell anyone else about this, and whatever you do, do not let Castiel leave, but do not take him into custody or approach him without me, you understand?”

“I understand. He’s not leaving.” No chance of that with him in rut.

“Put your supervisor on the line.”

Dean handed the phone over to Bobby, and he took it again and grunted monosyllable answers.

“Yes. Yes. He’ll be here. I’ll send him over to pick you up.” The man hung up before Bobby could, and Bobby and Dean stared at each other over the expanse of the desk between them.

 

Dean found himself driving to the KCI airport that afternoon, meeting a flight from the east coast, arriving a little after 3 pm. It was less than an hour drive, and Dean parked the police cruiser outside the airport doors. KCI was… a lot different than other city airports. There were three small terminals, each in the shape of a thin horseshoe, and every three to four gates were separated by glass walls with their own tiny security line. Dean stood right outside security for the correct gate and waited for the FBI agent to appear. Other people were waiting right alongside him, peering through the glass, and Dean shifted on his feet as the first few passengers trickled out.

He recognized the man as soon as he saw him. Dark suit, purposeful walk, direct gaze; it all pointed to an agent. The man saw him as well as soon as he was through, and held out a hand. “Officer Winchester. My name is Victor Henrickson.” They shook hands, and Dean could tell this man was another alpha. “I’ll need to know everything you know by the time we reach Lawrence.”

Dean could only nod in response, uneasy. He led him out to the cruiser and Henrickson slid into the passenger seat, and then he was driving again.

The agent put his one small briefcase down against his legs and the car door, and Dean couldn't resist asking the question that had been on his mind since his phone call. “If you flew out here so fast, why not just arrest Castiel so he can’t leave town?”

Dean could feel Henrickson turning towards him. “Castiel isn’t a criminal. We’ve been trying to find him for almost three years, and you were the first small lead we’ve had in about as long.”

Confused, Dean shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why have you been trying to find him? He’s-“ he should really shut his mouth sometimes.

Henrickson was on it fast. “He’s what?”

“…He’s, uh, he’s from the Preserves.”

“How do you know that? I thought you said he was only from a case? Do you want to tell me something?”

“No, he’s just an acquaintance. He’s been spending time with one of my friends.”

“Hm. How long has he been in town?"

"A couple months. Moved here at the beginning of August."

“Where is he living at the moment?”

“Omega safe-house in the middle of town.”

Henrickson made a sound that Dean couldn’t interpret. "Does anyone else know where he’s from, besides you?”

“Two or three people, I think.”

Henrickson tapped his fingers against the armrest in thought, and Dean took the chance to ask his own questions, though he didn't know if Henrickson would deign to answer them. “Why have you been looking for Castiel for so long? Or would you have to kill me after if you answered that?”

Henrickson paused for a second. “No, I’ll tell you. I need Castiel to come with me willingly, and you seem to have an in that I don’t. You’ve probably heard of the Underground that helps omegas escape the Preserves?”

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “Vaguely.”

“Well, he was part of it when the whole network was destroyed, and the only survivor we’ve ever been able to confirm made it out. Ever since then, all efforts to reestablish it have failed, and we need to know why.”

Woah. Dean had to take a minute to let that sink in.

Henrickson continued tapping his fingers impatiently. He seemed to be the type of person that didn't have to wait long for anything he wanted. “You’re sure he’s still in town?” he asked again, and Dean nodded.

“Oh yeah. Not like he can leave the house for another day at least.”

“What?”

“He’s in the middle of a rut.”

At that, Henrickson went silent, fingers stilling on the armrest. Dean glanced over at him, concerned. “What?”

“He’s an alpha?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes? Why are you asking me that?”

“Castiel had an identical twin brother named Jimmy, who also worked for the Underground. One of them died three years ago, and the body couldn't be identified, and the other disappeared. We’ve been looking for Castiel this whole time, but Castiel was a beta. Jimmy was the alpha."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SWERVE


	21. Down the Rabbit Hole

To say he was confused would be an understatement. Dean opened his mouth and closed it a few times, eyes frozen on the highway. It was a good thing he could drive 435 with his eyes closed, because all of his attention had been diverted off the road. “They – wait, I’m-“

“Confused?” Henrickson asked. “Isn’t it fascinating? Identical twin brothers, and yet they presented differently. It’s very rare, but I’ve been told it does happen. Something about gene expression. I don’t know. I’m not a scientist.”

“But – but why would Jimmy say he was Castiel? What would be the point?”

“I don’t know.” Henrickson admitted after a beat. “Both names were flagged in our database, so using one in place of the other would be - was - useless. He must’ve known both names would –“ he paused. “Well, the man himself can tell us once I meet him. You _can_ take me directly to him, yes?”

“Mmm… I mean, I can, but you can’t go inside the safe-house unless you’ve passed the Mischel test, so...” Dean shrugged.

“Well, shit.” Henrickson tapped his fingers even more impatiently against the armrest. “Can you contact him? Set up a meeting somewhere?”

“He lost his phone three days ago at the start of his rut, so no.” Dean lapsed into silence for a bit, but Victor was obviously waiting on a better response than that. “I can contact Daphne – the woman who owns the safe-house, though she’s not my biggest fan at the moment.” She had not been impressed when the ambulance had shown up at her doorstep after Dean had _accidentally_ drugged Castiel, and she’d gotten even less so when she found out how all this had started. He didn’t think she was angry at him, just…not happy.

The alpha reveal had blindsided him, but everyone in that safe-house had _already known_. Even the friggin’ kids had known before him - both Shawn and Krissy, who had watched the whole commotion silently from the kitchen, hadn’t shown one lick of surprise at the news. Daphne and Castiel had to work with omegas who hid their class all the time, and yet they got all pissy when the roles were reversed. But now there was an FBI agent on the way, so he guessed now that they'd had a good reason for hiding. Had they been concerned that something like this would happen if any information about Castiel had gotten out?

“Why isn’t she?” Henrickson asked, and Dean glanced over at him, drawn from his thoughts.

“Did Bobby – I mean, Singer – tell you what happened three days ago?”

“No,” Henrickson replied, “but _you_ are about to.”

 

Once Dean had (again) recounted the events of the last few days, to Henrickson this time, they were almost back in Lawrence. Not that Dean told him everything, of course. He’d given Henrickson a much edited version of what he had told Bobby. Henrickson had started writing something down in a little notepad he’d gotten out from an inside pocket of his suit minutes into Dean’s halting explanation, and now he tucked it back into that same pocket.

“Take me to the police station.” Henrickson ordered absently, as Dean finally exited off the highway. “I need to talk to your boss before I tell you more,” Henrickson continued, “but while you’re waiting, contact Daphne to see if Castiel is still in his rut. I need to meet with him as soon as possible, and I don’t care what you have to say to set it up. Just don’t tip him off.” That- he still did not like the sound of that. Dean finally pulled up to the familiar front of the police station, and Victor paused to straighten his tie and grab his briefcase before he started to get out.

“Hey, wait-” Dean called out, leaning across the seat, and Henrickson turned around to look at him again. “Why can’t he know that you’re looking for him?” The look turned into an assessing stare.

“I don’t want you to think I’m making you do anything wrong.” Henrickson said, “I would go about this in a more direct manner if I thought Castiel wouldn’t disappear again at the first sign of me. We believe that he still thinks someone is after him from the Preserves, but that’s hardly feasible. They’d have to work from within our own side to find him, and they’re too willfully ignorant of our own culture to make that transition anything but obvious. I just want to talk with him, find out what happened. That’s all.” He stepped out of the car, but bent down slightly to continue talking, one hand on the open car door. “I can tell you more after I get permission to do so, but until then, make it happen, Winchester.” Henrickson closed the door and vanished into the building, and Dean finally turned forward again.

“Well, fuck.”

 

Dean put it off for as long as he thought he could. He parked the car and just stayed in the driver’s seat, procrastinating. Henrickson would expect him to be waiting for him in the station, but he didn’t want to make a call like this in earshot of anyone else. For a few more minutes, he fidgeted in his seat, trying to come up with a plausible enough excuse. He couldn’t avoid not doing it when he had an FBI agent on his ass. Hopefully, this really was just for information.

He dialed Daphne’s number and listened to it ring, hoping she wouldn’t pick up.

“Hello, Daphne speaking.” She didn’t know his number.

“Uh, hi, Daphne. It’s Dean.”

There was a drawn out silence, and then, “Hello, Dean. How are you?”

“Uh, fine. Better now. I wanted to- is Castiel around? I wanted to fill him in on what's been happening, why that wine was spiked.”

“You can just call him on his phone and do that.”

“Didn’t Castiel lose his phone, though?”

“Of course he did, but he was well enough to go back to college today, and retrieved it then. You would’ve known this if you’d called earlier to check up on us.”

Dean winced at the reprimand. “Isn’t he still in his rut?” Today would only be the third day into a rut, and they normally knocked an alpha out for longer than that, unable to do anything that required strenuous coherent thought.

“Yes, he is, but if you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t let that type of thing slow him down much.”

Fair point. Really should’ve thought of that earlier. “Where is he now?”

“He just got back from his classes. He’s resting right now.” Dean waited for more, but she didn't offer anything else.

“So, if I hang up and call him, will he pick up?”

She hummed in thought. “Probably. He gets in a bit of a mood during his ruts, just so you know.”

Dean sighed. “Alright. Thanks.” They both hung up and Dean dialed Castiel’s number this time. Jimmy’s number? God, who knew at this point. Best to just keep thinking his name really was Castiel. It rang for a long time, and Dean was prepared to go to voicemail when Castiel finally picked up.

“Dean. What do you want?” Castiel sounded grumpier than usual, slower. Might’ve just woken him up from a nap, actually. Alphas got pretty tired at the end of their ruts from all the – from _activity_.

“Did I just wake you up?" Dean asked, diverted.

A put-upon sigh buffeted through the line. "Yes. What do you want?"

Dean fiddled with the keys in his other hand. “I uh, I’m guessing Daphne filled you in a bit on what happened, but I figured you should know the whole long story. Can you come over later so I can do this whole bit in person? Are you able to in your rut?”

Castiel took a minute to answer, and Dean shifted in his seat. “I’m able.” Castiel finally replied, slowly. “But not tonight. Would tomorrow around five be acceptable?”

“What? Yeah, ‘s fine. Whatever works for you.”

Castiel made a noncommittal sound. “I’ll see you then. Goodbye, Dean.” He hung up before Dean could respond in kind.

 

Dean had to wait outside Bobby’s office for half an hour, and watched the other officers to relieve the boredom. They talked softly among themselves, side-eying him and the closed door of Bobby’s office. They all knew something was going down, since they never saw an FBI agent walking through their station. They just didn’t know what. Only Garth went about his day like normal, even waving cheerily at Dean. But he’d always been a weird duck, especially for an alpha.

Dean heard the door creak open, and turned his head to see Bobby waving him in. He could feel the stares of the rest of the crew, who'd given up all pretense of subtlety to watch him as he stood up and walked into the office, Bobby closing the door behind him.

Henrickson turned to him expectantly in his chair. “Winchester. Did you make that call?”

Dean glanced to Bobby briefly, who nodded in response, before facing Henrickson. “Castiel won’t meet me tonight, but he said he’d come to my apartment at five tomorrow.”

“Excellent.” Henrickson replied. “I’ll have time to contact my own boss tonight, then.”

“Dean,” Bobby said, and Dean turned in his direction. “Agent Henrickson here wants you to be his consultant until this is all resolved, and I told him you would be. You’ll be released from your regular duties and you’ll assist Henrickson while he’s here with daily reports to me.” He didn’t seem too pleased with it himself.

Dean nodded. “Okay.” Bobby raised an eyebrow, and Dean went on. “I mean, yes, sir.”

Bobby uncrossed his arms and turned to Henrickson. “Dean can take you to Garth, who can set you up with one of our unmarked cars. Do you know where you’re staying tonight?”

Henrickson stood up. “Yes I do. The information’s on my phone. Let’s see that car, first.”

Bobby grabbed Dean’s arm before he could leave with Henrickson. “Call me tonight, boy.” He said, quietly, “I wanna know what’s goin’ on, alright?” Dean could tell Bobby was concerned at this new development, and how Dean had somehow found his way to the middle of it. He was too.

“I will, Bobby.” Dean replied, just as quietly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, right.” Bobby huffed, but he dropped his arm.

 

They’d all parted ways at the station, Victor driving to his hotel in the unmarked police car by himself, and Dean going back home for a brief breather. Henrickson had told him to meet up with him at his hotel room in just a few short hours after he talked to his own boss, and soon enough, Dean found himself knocking on the door to the correct hotel room.

Henrickson opened the door immediately, preoccupied with reading a slim folder he still had in his hand. “Come on in.” Dean followed him as he turned and walked back into the room, and waited, stiff and uncomfortable, as Henrickson sat back into the chairs and finished reading, ignoring his presence completely for the moment. His laptop glowed in front of him; more official looking data covering the screen.

When Henrickson finally leaned back and turned his attention to Dean, he flipped the small folder shut and put it down on the table. “Dean Winchester. Quite the interesting story you have.”

Dean’s eyes immediately went to the folder he’d just shut. “Did you just-“

“No, I read your file hours ago. This,” Henrickson put his hand down on the top of the folder, “is all the information we have on one Jimmy Novak.”

“What about Castiel?”

“Less than that. We didn’t have enough information to warrant a folder. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. My boss wanted to know all about you before we worked together. An omega working as a police officer. Not often you see that, even today.” Dean bristled, but didn’t say anything. Henrickson was watching for a reaction.

“Don’t worry; I couldn’t care less. Especially considering your competence on the job. There was one curious incident, though.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes. Four years ago, in fact. When you dropped off the face of the earth for a few months, and your brother became so worried that he flew to your house and filed a missing persons report. Sound familiar?”

Dean tapped his chin. “You know, it does. I went on a camping trip this one time for a few months, and my brother never got my text telling him that so he freaked out. He gets that way sometimes.”

“Uh huh. Interestingly enough, a few days before you reappeared, an anonymous tip lead police officers to bust a particularly large omega trafficking ring during a trade-off, in which some long lost relatives of yours got arrested.”

“I know, right? I heard that on the news and had to come straight home.”

Henrickson kept staring through him. “It’s strange- you’d think the person responsible for saving all those omegas would come forward, but there was also…”

“Also what?”

“That same day as the tip, a man named Alistair was found dead in his home. Murdered. He was eventually identified as one of the alphas in charge of the trafficking ring, and a suspect was never found for his murder. No one looked very hard, I should say. But, no matter. He met an appropriate fate. If I ever met his killer, I'd probably shake his hand.”

Dean finally broke eye contact, looking down at the carpet for a brief second before he could look up again. Henrickson had turned to pick up the folder, and now held it out to Dean.

“It was just a curious coincidence, is all.”

Dean swallowed. “Y-yeah. It was.” He took the folder with sweaty palms.

 


	22. Meeting with a Wolf

“I mentioned earlier I would tell you more once I talked to my boss, and I have, now.” Henrickson went on, like nothing had just happened. “He likes you. So I get to share what we have.” Dean blinked at the sudden change of topic, still tense and wary. He didn’t know if Henrickson was threatening him or just making him aware that they knew more about him than he wanted them to, but he didn’t like either option. Henrickson pushed out the other chair on the opposite side of the table with his foot. “Sit down. It’s lesson time.”

Dean hesitated, but Henrickson looked up again, expectant, so he sat down. His leg bounced with nerves, unseen by Henrickson.

“You’re probably wondering why we’ve been looking so incredibly hard for these two brothers that we actually had flags on searches in police databases.”

Dean eyed Henrickson incredulously. “Just a bit.” he managed to respond. An understatement. His curiosity concerning the mystery of this whole thing had been scratching at the walls for a long time now, though it had dimmed under the anxiousness of hearing Hendrickson’s information on him. Dean gave Henrickson another long assessing look, and when Henrickson just stared back, even and direct, he eventually sat back in the chair, letting his curiosity creep in again.

Taking his cue, Henrickson leaned forward, lacing his fingers together and resting his elbows on the table in front of him. “After the Civil War, and the formation of the Preserves, communication – any knowledge between the two Hierarchies, really – dissipated completely, despite our continuing acceptance of alpha representatives in our government from the other side. It never really went the other way, and our government has recently started to regret that. We share borders, and a lot of other things, but we know nothing about them. The only things that could ever get in were goods and the occasional convert, but we found ways to improvise. The Underground that had been used to get omegas and T-3’s out of the Preserves suddenly became a priority. If we tried hard enough, we could get people _in_.”

“You mean, like, spies and sh- stuff?”

Henrickson raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what you want to call it, yes. But just a few years ago, communication went dead – literally – when the whole Underground was found and destroyed by the Old Hierarchy, just as the news we were getting turned…concerning. So our government wants to know why, badly, so we can find out what else has been brewing.” He gestured to the folder on the table, and Dean looked down at the unassuming blank cover before flipping it open.

A photo had been paper-clipped to the first page, and Dean slipped it out to hold it up. It looked like one of those old-timey photos, sepia-toned figures all dower-faced and still. There were three figures in this one, all wearing Preserver garb – a woman sitting at the front with a young girl in her lap, and a man standing behind them both. It was the man in the back that caught Dean’s attention first.

Without looking up, Dean asked, “Is this Castiel?”

“No, that’s Jimmy and his wife and daughter. It’s one of the only photos we have of him. Preservers never upgraded their technology like we did.”

Jimmy had one hand resting on the shoulder of his wife, wedding band obvious on his ring finger. His wife and daughter both had long fair hair, probably blonde, and Dean could only imagine that all three of them had blue eyes.

“What’re their names?”

“Amelia and Claire Novak. Both disappeared when the Underground collapsed. We don’t know if they were kidnapped or killed outright.”

Dean put the photo aside and went through the three other pieces of paper. There wasn’t much. Jimmy had married Amelia at the tender age of eighteen, and moved into the more populated cities after their time in the forests, and became some sort of doctor, pretty high up in status from his alpha class. His beta twin, Castiel, had stayed in the forests for years as a sentry before he eventually moved to be with his brother. He’d immediately gotten into the omega Underground through his pack-mates and made use of his sentry living - making sure the path was clear to the border on the nights he worked to take the omegas safely across. He hadn’t managed to convince Jimmy to join and help the Underground until just months before its destruction.

The last page contained the photocopy of another photo, a real one this time – an aerial view of what Dean placed as a lone house, trees visible on all sides of the clearing at the edges of the photo. Well, what remained of a house. It had been burned down to rubble at this point, a dark trail of smoke smearing diagonally across the page, hinting at its recent destruction. Four dark shapes lay haphazardly around the clearing – four bodies prone on the ground, Dean realized, one in wolf form. Of the three still human, one had fallen facedown, and another on a side, faces not visible from the sky, but the third was stretched out, facing upward towards whatever had taken the picture. The figures were small and relatively hard to make out, but Dean could clearly identify Castiel – or Jimmy – with a dark slash across the throat. A dark stain had pooled on the ground underneath him. Poor bastard had probably bled out fast.

“How-?”

Henrickson obviously expected this question. “Aerial drones. Not actual ones, really, just some glorified toy airplanes that we repurposed. If they’re high enough, the Preservers won’t notice, but obviously we don’t use them often, and we don’t send them in very far. When no one showed up at the meet point right outside the Preserves, we decided to use one. Luckily Castiel’s cabin wasn’t far from the border. It’s where they actually took the omegas and T-3s on their way out.”

Dean finally looked up at Henrickson. “Why are you telling me all this?” He didn’t need to know any of this information. He was a freakin’ college town policeman, not anyone special.

“My boss thinks you could be a great help, considering your experience with omega trafficking, and your previous interactions with this Castiel, so he wanted me to bring you up to speed. On everything. It’s – unprecedented. I didn’t agree with him. But when I say my boss likes you, he _really_ likes you.”

“Well, that’s not creepy at all.” Dean said. “I’m not sending him nudes, if that’s what he’s aiming for.”

Henrickson sighed at Dean’s response. “I just want you to realize how important it is that I talk to Jimmy tomorrow. I need him to cooperate, and give me the information I need. The last thing I want to do is let him disappear for good. Castiel and Jimmy didn’t actually know the Underground was being used to bring people in, but we have strong suspicions that Jimmy stumbled across something big right before this.” He gestured to the aerial photo. “Hopefully I’ll find out what happened when I meet him.”

Dean found his eyes straying to the photo of Jimmy with his family, and back to the other, with the man with the dark line for a throat. He couldn’t imagine Castiel – well, the man currently alive and kicking – as the man in the photo, happily living with a wife and kid. But if Jimmy really had been the alpha of the two, the man who called himself Castiel was definitely that same alpha. Henrickson seemed convinced that Jimmy had been the one that had survived.

This- the photo showing the aftermath of a fatal fight - must’ve been how he’d gotten those terrible scars, and explained the response to the movie. He must’ve been the only one to survive it. Dean could only imagine the psychological trauma of seeing his brother killed and having his family taken or killed as well. It didn’t seem like Castiel had had anyone else, besides his twin. Maybe - maybe Jimmy had actually convinced himself that he truly _was_ Castiel to separate himself from the loss of his family?

Dean mentally shook himself out of that confusing line of thought. Pondering the _what ifs_ on so little information would get him nowhere. No wonder Henrickson was so impatient to meet the survivor. Dean tucked the first photo back under the paperclip, closing the folder carefully.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel was having a good day, despite the circumstances. His rut had left him as suddenly as it had come on, though he supposed the shorter timeframe of this rut had been the trade-off for the greater intensity. During a usual rut, Castiel could almost function normally, despite the… urges that came over him, like every other alpha. This time though, he hadn’t trusted himself to even come out of his room. Not that he’d thought of doing so – he’d been firmly focused on other, more pressing, matters.

Now that his mind had cleared of the haze of such a strong rut, the panic of discovery had faded. Yes, Dean had found out that he was an alpha, and from the Forests, but it didn't mean anything to him. Not without knowing the larger picture. And Jess had assured Daphne and him that she'd make sure Dean wouldn't do anything. He’d been ready to jump out the window before Daphne had stopped him – just long enough for the rut to get too bad to do anything of the sort. Which had turned out to be a good thing, in hindsight. Now, he just had to deal with suspicious classmates, and even more people who knew that he was an alpha. Frustrating, and a little bit upsetting, but not the end of the world. No one knew the rest of it.

After going back to classes and recovering his phone yesterday, he’d come home to sleep through almost the entire evening, though Dean had woken him up for a brief moment to ask him to meet later today. He'd agreed to it. Even after his blunder with the movie, Castiel couldn’t bring himself to think that anything Dean had done had been with truly malicious intent.

Castiel glanced at the clock on the wall. Since it took a little bit to bike to Dean's apartment, he'd need to leave in a couple minutes. He'd spent his hour at home after getting back from classes helping Shawn with his homework at the kitchen counter, and Shawn was still studying at his side, bent over and concentrating on the words in front of him, pencil clutched in one hand. Krissy hadn’t wanted to be near him in a rut, but Shawn didn’t seem to care at all.

“Do you have any other questions before I go?” Castiel asked, but Shawn shook his head absentmindedly as he scribbled in another answer.

“No, I got it.”

Castiel patted him on the back and got up, making his way to the garage where they kept his bike. Daphne had yet to get back from work, so the only car they had was absent from its place in the garage. Krissy would take care of Shawn while Castiel and Daphne were both away, since she’d been doing it just fine before them, and they both trusted Krissy with the house as well, which had never happened with the random omegas that had stayed with them before. They trusted that Krissy would continue to be responsible if she wanted to stay with Shawn. Krissy seemed to appreciate it. She liked it when she was treated like an adult.

The sun was out, though the sky held grey clouds in the west, lending warmth to the cold edge the autumn air had taken. Already, the leaves of certain trees had already begun to turn color, from blood-red to pale gold, lit up in the sunlight. The bike ride went regrettably fast for such a day. Once he’d situated his bike outside the apartment complex, he found himself walking in and up the stairs with purposeful steps, curious as to what Dean would tell him about the drugged wine. Daphne had mentioned something about Dean’s brother and a woman named Ruby, who’d been behind it, but Castiel had not been able to understand much at the time.

He knocked on the door to the apartment, and Dean immediately opened it. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey. Come on in.” Dean replied, and stepped back to let him through.

Castiel moved into the apartment, and Dean closed the door behind him. “I wanted to apologize if I sounded rude yesterday, I wasn't-“

He had turned to look at Dean again, but movement caught his eye and Castiel turned his head, glancing further into the apartment. A strange man walked into view, with dark skin and a darker suit, and Castiel froze in place.

“Jimmy Novak.” The man said, and smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry! The plot just won’t stop!  
> Dean and Castiel will start to interact a lot more starting next chapter – I just couldn’t force them into it before they were freakin’ ready to be.


	23. Ignorance is not Bliss

Castiel went worryingly still, muscles coiled and tense, ready to explode into action at any moment. Henrickson raised his hands, palms facing outward in a peaceable gesture as soon as he saw the change, but Castiel ignored it as his eyes scanned the rest of the apartment, obviously planning escape and looking for more enemies. Dean became very aware of his placement between Castiel and the door when Castiel looked behind him, and their eyes met. Castiel’s accusatory stare cut right through him, and when Castiel turned his back on Dean once again to face Henrickson, so did the purposeful dismissal.

Henrickson had started talking again, trying to keep Castiel from bolting. “Jimmy, look –“ he did a strange motion, putting three fingers behind his ear, but Castiel didn’t react at all, just kept staring at him. “I’m with the Underground on this side of the border. Please, no one from the Forests can find you out here.”

“You don’t know that.” Castiel snapped, moving, and Dean freaked out a little before he realized Castiel was slowly pacing the living room in aggressive steps, still between Dean and Henrickson. It seemed he really did believe that Preservers were still after him. Had he been on the run all this time, thinking he had to hide? There were plenty of people, like Jessica, ready to help anyone from the Underground, yet Castiel had been homeless for at least a year before Daphne, and hadn’t told anyone but her of his background. “How did you find me?”

Henrickson remained calm, even when the scent of a very upset alpha, ready to attack, permeated the room. Castiel might have put scent blockers on today, but this close a rut, it couldn’t cover the smell of such rampant hormones for long. It seemed to make the room that much smaller to Dean, shrinking even as the tension in the room pulled taut. “A lucky break, since you’re still using a name we can trace.” Castiel turned and pinned Dean with another look, obviously believing Dean had something to do with it. Which he did. Dean looked down, breaking eye contact, as Henrickson continued explaining himself. “I don’t think you realize how big our side of the Underground is. You’re not in any danger from us knowing that you’re here. Trust me, we would know if Preservers were after you.”

“And you expect me to take your word?” Castiel’s hands flexed strangely at his sides as he said this, still pacing. Claws were one of the first things to evidence a change, Dean knew, and he glanced worriedly in Henrickson’s direction. Dean couldn’t remember if he’d seen any alpha red start to bleed into Castiel’s eyes either, from this distance. Were they even a match for a cornered T-1 if he was on the verge of going biblical on their asses?

Henrickson spread his hands again. “I’m here, and no harm has come to you yet, has it? I just need information from you. That’s it.” He lifted his chin a bit, turning to expose his neck. An outdated gesture of submission, but one that seemed to work, especially when coming from another alpha.

“If your Underground is so powerful, why do you need my information?” The tension of the room eased as Castiel relaxed a fraction. The possibility that he might attack or run went down the longer this conversation went on.

“We can only do so much from our side.” Henrickson replied, dropping his hands and turning his head back. “I need to know what happened on _your_ side of the Forests that night.”

Castiel didn’t answer immediately. He looked away from the both of them, deep in thought, as his hands ran over his forearms, absentminded.

After a minute or two, Castiel stopped. Dean and Henrickson waited for him to reply as he faced Henrickson fully again. “No.”

Henrickson looked confused. “No?”

“The knowledge is pointless. Everybody died. The end.”

What?

“ _Pointless_?” Henrickson repeated again, voice rising slightly.

“That is what I said, yes.”

Henrickson tried to reign in the volume of his voice to a more reasonable level. “How is it pointless to know how so many were killed? We are _trying_ to reestablish the Underground on your side, save more-”

“It won’t work.”

Now that Castiel had relaxed, firm in his decision on not providing any good answers, Henrickson was the one getting angry. He drew a couple of deep breaths and tried a different tactic.

“We _know_ that someone betrayed the Underground. Was it you? Is that how you’re alive?”

“Don’t insult me.” Castiel replied, like he was talking about the weather, not rising to the obvious bait. “It’s true, we were betrayed, but the Clans already knew about the Underground beforehand. They could have destroyed it at any point in time. They just chose not to.”

Henrickson blinked. “So what changed?”

“We got too bold for their tastes.” Castiel turned his head, done speaking. This obviously was not how Henrickson had expected it to go.

“Jimmy, we-“

“Stop calling me Jimmy.” Castiel snapped. There was more emotion behind that one response than the whole of the recent discussion. “My name is Castiel.”

Henrickson crossed his arms. “Castiel was the beta brother. _You_ are not a beta.”

“I was a beta, before.” Castiel responded. “I’m no longer.”

That was impossible. Henrickson knew that just as well as Dean did, but Henrickson held his tongue. He knew what battles he wanted to win, and this was not going to be one of them, apparently.

“Okay, Castiel,” Henrickson said this time, conceding the point, “did anyone else survive?”

“No. Just me.”

Henrickson sighed in frustration. He’d obviously believed that Castiel would help – so had Dean for that matter – and this refusal really threw a wrench in the works. Dean couldn’t even think of one good reason for Castiel’s behavior. It didn’t seem like Castiel was refusing to say what happened because he couldn’t bear to, he just plain-out didn’t think it wasn’t important.

“Please, Castiel, I – we – need to know. Something is happening in the Preserves. Surely you were aware of that, at least.”

That drew Castiel’s attention. “I-“ he changed his mind and sighed. “Not when it would have mattered. I can’t help you. Nor will my information.”

“My boss is not going to accept that answer.” Henrickson’s voice hardened, and Castiel bristled at that.

“And just what is he going to do about it?”

“Look,” Henrickson replied, “since this is a Federal investigation, and you refuse to tell me anything, I can arrest you for obstruction of justice." When Castiel tensed again, Henrickson held up a hand and went on, "I hope it won't come to that. I'll give you some time to realize it would be in everybody's best interest that you tell me what we need to know, but I _cannot_ let you be unsupervised.”

Castiel considered this, eyes narrow. “How are you going to do such a thing if you can’t even enter the omega safe-house where I live?”

“ _I_ can’t.” Henrickson agreed. “But Dean can.”

Oh, no.

“You want me to be a freakin’ babysitter?” Dean asked incredulously, the same time Castiel said, “We don’t have the room.” Castiel glared at Dean again when he processed his response.

“I’m-“

“Tha-“

They tried to speak at the same time again, and both stopped, realizing it. Castiel glared harder.

“That’s hardly necessary.” Castiel went on.

“It is when you’re the only lead we have, and you’ve consistently proven yourself to be a flight risk.” Henrickson told him. “We almost had you at that first hospital three days after the Underground collapsed, but you had already disappeared out of your room. We can’t let that happen again.”

“And as for you, Dean,” Henrickson continued, when Dean’s mouth opened as well, “My boss and I know you are very capable at _anything_ you put your mind to.” Dean closed his mouth, teeth clicking together. Right. Castiel looked between the two, and his gaze turned assessing. Dean could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“I’m not involving Daphne or Krissy and Shawn in this.” Castiel started, catching Henrickson’s attention again. “And even if that wasn’t a factor, the safe-house doesn’t have the extra room.” Castiel slowly looked around. “But this apartment does.”

With that one comment, Henrickson's face twitched in anger before smoothing out into an amused expression. “You’re willing to live here to keep Daphne and the two kids out of it? Interesting.” Castiel only watched him placidly, and didn’t answer.

Dean came to the conclusion that Castiel was a bit off his rocker.

 

Dean drove Baby back to the safe-house, an old rock station playing from the radio. The silence had been so uncomfortable that Dean had immediately turned it on to make this ride a little more bearable. Castiel sat in the passenger seat looking out the window, calm as a cucumber.

Dean didn’t buy it for one second.

Earlier, Castiel had been ready to claw their faces off to escape, and now he wasn’t even giving Dean the evil-eye anymore. He had been the one to suggest moving some stuff to Dean’s place immediately, and Henrickson had only shaken his head in irritation, turning to Dean. He hadn’t been able to say no with Henrickson staring at him like that, that damned conversation about Alistair hanging over his head. When Henrickson had left them, phone already in hand as they’d gotten in the Impala, Dean had been grateful to see him go. Too bad it wouldn’t last.

Daphne opened the door when they arrived. “You’re back early,” she told Castiel, not taking her eyes off Dean.

Castiel glanced back at Dean, a few steps behind him. “Can we have a moment?” Dean nodded and stepped back, out of earshot. Daphne watched him go before she turned to Castiel. She definitely knew something was up. They talked in quiet murmurs, and then Daphne finally nodded once and stepped back. With a glance back at Dean, Castiel started to move past her, and Dean took that as the gesture to follow.

When they got to Castiel's room, he didn’t take long to pack up his stuff. He didn’t have much _to_ pack, Dean noticed, watching from the doorway. Not more than ten minutes later, Castiel emerged holding one duffel bag, his familiar maroon backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder. Krissy and Shawn were waiting at the bottom of the stairs for Castiel as they made their way down.

“Daphne told us you’re staying with Dean for a while.” Krissy said, eyes sharp with suspicion.

“Yes, I uh, am helping him with catching the criminal who drugged us both.”

It was a passable enough reason, but Castiel _sucked_ at lying. Dean withheld a wince.

“Uh huh.” Krissy replied, arms crossed. She remained unconvinced.

“Daphne can tell you more.” Castiel told her, in a more serious tone, and Krissy nodded. He bent down, resting on his heels, and almost fell backwards when Shawn darted forward and hugged him tightly, bony arms around his neck. Surprised, Castiel froze for a few awkward seconds before he remembered to return it.

Shawn mumbled something into Castiel’s trenchcoat, too faint to hear from where Dean was standing.

Castiel hugged him back a bit tighter, talking just as softly. “I’m not, Shawn. I’m just going to stay over at Dean’s place. I’ll still see you. Tomorrow, in fact. I promise.”

 

It was almost completely dark when they arrived back at Dean’s apartment complex. Once Dean turned off the engine, the only light came from the overhead streetlights and the small floodlight at the entrance of the complex, flooding everything with yellow. Without the roar of an engine or the sound of the radio to cover the absence, the air was dead silent. Dean chanced a look over at Castiel. Castiel was staring back.

“What?” Dean asked, a little irritable of the things he couldn’t understand at the moment.

"Who did you tell about me to bring Henrickson here?"

"I didn't tell anyone." At Castiel's flat stare, Dean went on, "I swear I didn't. All I did was search your name in our database."

"That's all they needed to find me here?" Castiel asked, frowning.

When Dean shrugged in response, Castiel looked out the car window, hand curling into a fist at his side. “Do you think Henrickson is telling the truth?”

Dean straightened in his seat, irritation forgotten. “About what?”

“About being part of the Underground. Working for your government, and not for-“ he waved a hand, before settling on, “my side.”

“He’s not lying about that stuff.” Dean said.

“Do you trust him?”

Dean licked his lips, considering. “Not as far as I can throw him.”

“That has nothing to do-“ Castiel stopped himself. “Is this another figure of speech?”

“It means not really, no.”

“Then why do you think he’s telling the truth?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, man. I just do. Why would he lie?”

Castiel didn’t reply, but his gaze slid to the side, which was an answer in itself. As he turned to look out the dash, his eyes caught the light of the streetlamp, and his pupils reflected it, flashing strangely. Just like a wolf’s eye would.

“Why don’t you just run for the hills if you don’t think he’s telling the truth?” Dean asked, curious. “You could probably kick my ass in a fair fight, and easily get away.”

“I have people to protect now. Leverage for anyone that wants something from me.”

Because of Dean. “Is that why you’re crashing here? Don’t want to have those three in the crossfire if he is lying?”

Castiel finally looked back at Dean, "Or if he's not the only one that comes looking."

"Awesome. Just me then." Dean said, turning to open the car door. "Good talk."

 


	24. Roommates

Castiel followed him out of the car. “You do know how to defend yourself much better than they can. A much higher chance of survival if something happens.”

“Thank you, for that vote of confidence,” Dean replied, dryly. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ll need to find out, but whatever floats your boat, man.” Castiel made a noncommittal sound at that, but didn’t say anything else. Dean wasn’t too happy about sharing his space with a paranoid Negative Nancy, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice in the matter, with Henrickson’s threat - or whatever the hell that was - firmly imprinted into his memory. And yes, he was the one responsible for this mess, but – c’mon. Who’d’ve thought that an FBI agent would come to investigate based only on one – okay, a couple – searches on a Castiel Novak? He used other search engines all the time, for much shadier reasons, and nothing had come of it before. They must’ve been desperate. Still were, at this point in the game, since Castiel wouldn’t give them anything.

Hands in his pockets, Dean turned to watch Castiel lift his duffel bag out of the backseat, hefting the strap over one shoulder. Once he’d closed the car door, Dean locked Baby and headed in to the lighted building, Castiel trailing behind him. They remained silent all the way to the apartment.

When Dean finally unlocked the door and stepped in, he sighed and headed to the kitchen, rolling his head to try and stretch the muscles in his neck, still tight with tension. “Close the door, will ya?” The door shut behind him as he opened the fridge, eyes briefly skimming over the food he had. His stomach twisted with hunger at the thought of food since he hadn’t had anything to eat since noon. Castiel probably hadn’t either, and from what he remembered, Castiel was a shit cook. Fuck. Well, he’d make dinner for the both of them, but he didn’t have to be happy about it.

Dean grabbed a beer with the hand not currently holding the fridge open, turning around. “Hey, you want a-“ Castiel was _right there_ , less than a foot away. Dean startled and almost dropped the beer. “- _Jesus._ ” He took a second to recover.

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Castiel said.

“Make some noise, Cato,” Dean replied, glaring weakly at Castiel as he relaxed his sudden white-knuckled grip on the fridge handle.

Castiel frowned at him. “My name is not Cato.”

Ugh. Old movie references went right over his head. “You want a beer or what?”

Castiel’s eyes dropped to the beer, and his nose wrinkled in distaste. “No thank you.” Right. Last time he’d had alcohol here, well-

Shrugging, Dean turned to peruse the fridge again and paused when Castiel didn’t step out of his personal space. “Did you want something else?” 

After a second of hesitation, Castiel shook his head and stepped back.

“O-kay then.” Dean said, eyeing Castiel as he walked over to set his duffel and backpack at the foot of one of the chairs around the kitchen table. When Castiel sat down, Dean went back to scrounging for food.

A few minutes later, Dean found himself making quesadillas, stomach rumbling loud at the smell of melting cheese. Since he was making them, Dean was going to eat the first two while the next were cooking, and he wasn't gonna be sorry about it, dammit.

His phone started ringing. Great.

When he turned around, Castiel was sitting at the kitchen table, hands clasped together and eyes unfocused. He must’ve been thinking ‘cause the wall he was currently staring at looked very blank and uninteresting. Dean dropped the plate in front of him and startled Castiel out of his reverie as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Surprised, Castiel looked at the food and turned to Dean. “You didn’t have to-“

“Eat the damn food,” Dean ordered. Once he saw Babby's name on his phone screen, he stepped into the hall and headed to his room, answering it before he got there.

“Heya, Bobby.”

“When I meant call me when you were done with the meeting, I meant for you to call _right after_ , not wait until it was _convenient_ for your delicate sensibilities.” Bobby griped over the line, and Dean winced as he closed the door to his bedroom.

“Shit! Sorry, Bobby, I forgot. Castiel-“

“Is living with you, now. I heard. Agent Henrickson told me all about nanny duty when he came by my office.”

Dean rubbed his eyes with his free hand and started pacing. “What’d he say?”

“Nuthin’ much. Just that you’ll be keeping an eye on Castiel for the foreseeable future. He really didn’t tell Henrickson anything?”

“Nope. Just said the info wasn’t important anymore.”

Bobby grunted. “Weird. What info does Henrickson need? Why’s Castiel so damn important?”

“Oh, man, it’s some heavy-duty shit. He was part of some underground secret society thing that got omegas out of the Preserves. It got found out like three years ago, and he was the only survivor.” His stomach growled as the smell of food carried into the room.

Bobby whistled low, impressed. “Damn. Why are they bringing your sorry ass in on this?”

“Hell if I know. ‘Cause it’s perky?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” Bobby replied, exasperated. “So why is this Castiel crashing at your place? It’s not like he doesn’t have a place to stay.”

“ _He_ suggested it! Doesn’t want to involve Daphne or the two kids in this, and I didn’t have a choice in the matter with Henrickson in the room.” Dean dragged his hand through his hair.

“Whadd’ya mean, no choice?”

“Henrickson knows about Alistair, Bobby.”

Bobby was silent for a beat. “Ah, shit,” he said, exhaling sharply. “Got you on a short leash, then.”

“No fucking kidding. What am I supposed to do?”

“Just go along with it for now,” Bobby told him. “Play nice. I didn’t come out of retirement for nuthin’, so don’t get in too much trouble while we figure this out. Ya hear me, boy?”

“I hear you,” Dean sighed. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel listened to Dean’s conversation with interest, finishing the food Dean had made for him and making sure to step away from the door when he heard Dean utter a goodbye to Bobby. He vaguely remembered the name and face from the Roadhouse gathering for Jessica, though who Bobby was to Dean remained questionable. A superior, that much was sure. But Henrickson seemed to outrank both, very unwillingly on their parts, since Dean as so upset that he knew about someone named Alistair. Blackmail, perhaps? That didn’t give him much hope in thinking this Henrickson really was trying to help - didn’t give him much time to prepare. But it did give him hope that Dean might help him, like he helped others.

Castiel took his plate to the kitchen sink to clean it just as he heard Dean walk back into the hallway, and sat back down at the table, still trying to put together a plan. He’d told Daphne what he could, where to find him if he disappeared, to give him up if anyone came looking. It would buy him just a bit more time, and save their lives as well. Hopefully they’d only kill him, or before the others, if he was lucky.

Just under his clothing, a little leather bag hung on a string, laying heavy over his chest. He just had to do one more thing before they caught up with him.

First though. “May I take a shower?”

Dean looked up from his own food, still chewing. “Mmmf,” he mumbled, and got up, gesturing for Castiel to follow. Castiel followed Dean to the hallway, where he opened a door to reveal a closet and pulled a towel out, handing it to Castiel. “All yours.” He gestured again when Castiel moved in the direction of the kitchen to get his bags, moving backwards. “Uh uh, keep following me.”

Curious, Castiel followed. There were two other rooms, and Dean closed the door to the farthest room – his room. “That’s my room. Don’t go in there.” There was one other door just to the left, and Dean opened it. “This is your room, for now.”

Castiel looked into the room, past Dean. There was a bed, already made up, a poster still tacked on the far side of the wall. He passed Dean, making his way to the bed. “Who lived here with you, before?” Castiel asked, running his fingers over the plaid bedspread before he looked back at Dean. He was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed in front of him.

“Sam did, for a couple years, before he got hitched.”

Hitched? Castiel didn’t understand that term either, but he let it go. “I know you had no choice in the matter, but thank you for letting me stay in your home.”

Dean shrugged. “Well, I’m the one that accidentally tipped off Henrickson, so it’s only fair, I guess.”

Castiel hummed in response, replaying that sentence in his head. _Accidentally_. He stepped back out into the hallway. “I’ll go get my bags.”

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel took a ridiculous amount of time in the shower. Dean groaned when his brain supplied that Cas might be Up To Something, and threw his head back, knocking it against the headrest of the couch. Dammit. He just needed to not think about it.

He rubbed his eyes again, pushing his laptop to the side. Now that he really had to know what he was dealing with, he’d been researching the Underground, trying to find out more about it. There wasn’t much. Jess might know more, since she worked for OSPS. He’d call her tomorrow.

The sound of the water finally shut off, just as he was getting suspicious that Castiel might be trying to crawl out the tiny bathroom window. And he really had to pee. And that was the only bathroom in the apartment. Five minutes later, Dean finally muttered darkly under his breath and knocked on the bathroom door. It opened before he could say anything, and a clothed and barefoot Castiel emerged, hair still damp, curling slightly around his ears. The towel Dean had given him was in one hand. “Sorry.” Castiel said, sheepish. “I like long showers. You have excellent water pressure.”

“It’s- yeah.” That was exactly why Dean loved his showers here. Castiel wore a faded grey T-shirt and sky blue pajama pants on with- Dean did a double take – yup, those were cartoon bees. He was having a hard time reconciling this picture with a man wanted by the FBI. “It’s fine. Just don’t use up all the hot water.”

Castiel nodded and brushed past him, and when Dean entered the bathroom, the humidity was so thick it was like walking into a sauna. He refused to think about the smell.

 

* * *

 

 

Charlie woke up in the middle of the night to a hand clamping over her mouth. She screamed ineffectively and thrashed, trying to separate herself from her attacker.

“Charlie,” a grunt as her elbow hit something hard. “Charlie! It’s me, Castiel,” he whispered, just as she drew her head back and saw his face. A trail of blood dripped out of his nose, streaking down his lip. That was from her smarting elbow. The bedside lamp was on, making it possible to see him clearly. He’d obviously turned it on right before surprising her.

She shoved him away, hard, and he went, withdrawing his hand. Still cautious and watching her. “What the hell, Castiel?! Not okay! Not okay at all!”

“I’m aware,” Castiel replied, wiping away the blood with the back of his hand, “but no one else can know about this. You'll understand why once I tell you.” He withdrew a small leather pouch from beneath his shirt and held it out to her. “I need your help.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If no one gets the movie reference: Cato was the butler from the Pink Panther movies that snuck up on and attacked Inspector Clouseau when he was least inspecting it at home to hone his instincts. He once popped out of the fridge to attack when the Inspector opened it to get food. It was great.


	25. Something Strange

“What is that?” Charlie asked, still shaky after such a bad scare. “’Cause let me tell you, you’re giving me all sorts of bad vibes right now, Castiel.”

Castiel stayed where he was, reaching into the pouch and pulling out a smaller black rectangle. He held the small form out, and the straight edges and size were instantly recognizable. “You know what this is, correct?”

“Yeah, kinda my job,” Charlie said, still eyeing him warily. Why he was having a cow over a flash drive was beyond her.

“I need to know what information is on this,” Castiel stated, expectant. Charlie crossed her arms in front of her chest, realizing she was in just a T-shirt and underwear, though the sheets still covered her lower half. He almost gave her a coronary for _this_?

“Then plug it into your laptop. Not difficult, even for you. And wipe your nose again. Don’t get blood on the carpet.”

“No, I-“ Castiel sighed and felt his nose, probably making sure it wasn’t broken, before he wiped the newest trail of blood off his face. “I tried that, once.”

 _“And?”_ Charlie prompted, impatient.

“I couldn’t get it to work! And they knew as soon as I tried!” Castiel said, gesturing sharply, and Charlie almost flinched.

“What are you talking about? Who knew?” Charlie watched him as he looked away from her, jaw clenched. A strange suspicion began to form. “Castiel, where did you get that? And why don’t you know what’s on it?”

Castiel looked down at the flash drive, tilting it between his fingers, before he turned his eyes back to hers. “Dean told me that you know where I’m from.” He held the black, almost inconspicuous flash drive up a little more, drawing her attention to it again. “I brought this out with me.”

Charlie frowned. “…But that’s not possible. The Preserves don’t have the technology that we do.”

“Yes, we do,” Castiel informed her. Confused, Charlie looked up at him.

“What do you mean? You don’t even know how to use a laptop.”

“ _I_ didn’t, no. I didn’t even know what this was until almost a year after I escaped the Forests. I wasn’t allowed to know.” Charlie finally took the flash drive from his outstretched hand.

“Allowed?” Charlie asked, turning the flash drive over in her hands and uncapping it.

Castiel knelt down beside the bed to get down to eye level. “Charlie, tell me what you know of the Preserves.”

“Not much. Just the usual. Y’know, how they broke away from the Union when the T-3’s were freed from slavery, and they claimed land in the west for their own sorta country.”

“No, I mean the society.”

“Uh, okay.” Charlie said, not knowing at all where this was going. “You mean like, the alpha, beta, and omega classes?” When Castiel nodded, Charlie tried to put her thoughts in order. “Well, I know the Preserves are still really traditionalist, with rigid class structures where the alphas lead, betas follow, and omegas submit, but- “ she sighed, “gimme a bone, here.”

Castiel cocked his head. “A bone?”

“A hint, a guess, an idea!” Charlie said, gesturing before she remembered she still had the flash drive in her hand. “What do you want me to know? Where are you going with this?”

Castiel shifted in place. “Did you know that almost all of the omegas in the Preserves are illiterate?”

“I coulda guessed,” Charlie replied. “If the Preserves are just like how our society was, yeah. I mean, that’s only changed for realsies a couple of decades ago for us.”

“Do you know why they are kept that way?”

“Because they don’t need to know how to read? Like, they’re supposed to be all about taking care of the family and nothing else, right?”

“It’s one of the best ways of keeping people in their places,” Castiel muttered.

“What, reading?”

“ _Information_.” Castiel corrected her. “Almost of the omegas in the Preserves, and even most betas, have no idea of the outside world. They know no better than what they are given. It’s why the Underground was, in actuality, small.”

“So, what, exactly?”

“Technology is no different.” As soon as Castiel said that, Charlie looked back down to the flash drive.

“So let me get this straight. You still have wood furnaces and plows, but the top alphas have _computers_ and God knows what else?”

Castiel shrugged. “There’s no shame in living a simple life. I had no interest in knowing anything about what they did with such things before all this. I imagine it was - and still is - the same for many.”

“But aren’t you an alpha? Sorry, Dean told me what happened with the movie night.”

“That’s-“ Castiel paused. “A matter for another time, perhaps. But first, I need to know what’s on that flash drive without the old Hierarchy finding out about it, like last time.”

“Wh - How did they find out about it? What were you doing?”

Castiel ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. “I don’t know,” he admitted, after a moment. “When I found out it was a flash drive, I plugged it into a public library computer, but I couldn’t-“ he paused “-I didn’t know how to – it said it couldn’t access it. And then a police officer came to detain me not an hour later. I escaped, but I never tried again.”

Interesting. Maybe there was a code in the flash drive that sent out notice if someone tried to access it. “Why are you giving it to me, now?”

“Certain events have forced my hand. You were the only one I could think of with the necessary skills. Please, will you help me?” he asked, looking up at her.

Charlie stayed silent for a minute. “One last question,” she finally said. “What do you think is on this flash drive? Why do you need to know so badly?”

“My twin brother gave this to me just before he died,” Castiel replied, quiet. “He told me that they were working on something terrible, and this was the proof, but he didn’t get the chance to tell me anything else.”

Man, just her luck. She was the perfect person to help, considering her hacker background, but this sounded Dangerous. “What about Dean? He-“ but Castiel shook his head vehemently.

“No. No one else can know about this. Especially not Dean.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez.”

“I’m sorry. Dean is not in a position to help, at the moment. There’s an FBI agent that he currently has to answer to.”

“What?!?” Charlie squeaked. “I am missing out on everything. Jesus.” She waved her hands at Castiel. “Okay, out. I need pants for this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, short and plotty.


	26. The Waiting Game

It felt weird having someone else in his apartment again.

Sammy had moved out almost a year ago after finally getting his proverbial feet back under him, and although it got a bit lonely at times, Dean was perfectly content with a bachelor pad to himself. Really. He _had_ been the one to contact Jess again, reestablish a tenuous connection between the two of them, after Sammy had had enough time to sort himself out. He'd known Sammy wouldn't do it; he'd been too paralyzed by guilt and the idea that she was better off without him around - safer as well, which he had been right about, actually, with Ruby back in town.

Of course, Dean hadn’t been completely sure Jess would give Sammy another chance, but he'd needed some form of closure to the life he'd had in California. Jess had taken over, deciding she wasn't done with Sam, and Sam really couldn't say no and didn't want to. Months later, Jess had moved from California to Lawrence, and a few months after that, Dean had gladly helped Sammy move the few boxes of his belongings out to their new place.

He’d just never been able to bring himself to change the room Sammy had left behind.

But now Castiel was using that bedroom for the foreseeable future, since he was being a paranoid hard-ass with Henrickson, and it had felt like he’d been intruding, even though no one used that bedroom anymore.

Dean still could not believe – well, any of this, really. All these little tiny coincidences leading up to freakin’ _this._ Castiel, the only survivor of the Underground to escape the Preserves, sitting in Dean’s kitchen early in the morning because Dean had fucked up.

“You want eggs or what?” Dean asked, finally. He always made breakfast for himself when he had the time, so it wasn’t too much trouble to make something for another person. Hopefully Castiel wouldn’t eat him out of house and home like Sammy used to.

Castiel had been frowning down into his coffee like he was trying to set fire to it with only his eyes, but he looked up at Dean’s question, squinting, and nodded after a moment.

“How do ya want ‘em?”

All he got for that was a shrug.

“You’re not a morning person, are you?” Dean said, more a statement than a question, and the corners of his mouth twitched up when Castiel shrugged again.

“What?” Castiel asked, irritated, and Dean shook his head.

“Nothing.” For such a polite guy, he sure was grumpy in the morning. Castiel huffed and took another sip of his coffee.

Dean wisely decided to wait until _after_ the borrowed mug was empty before broaching the subject of the rest of the day. Castiel had made his intentions clear yesterday - that he was going to continue his life like normal, so hopefully Henrickson had already contacted KU about Dean playing bodyguard.

“So,” he started, as Castiel finished his food, “you’re really just gonna pretend like it’s a normal day for you?”

“Yes.” Castiel answered, not looking up. “I refuse to let Agent Henrickson inconvenience any part of my life here.”

“I don’t get it, man.” Dean said, after a pause. “You could get rid of Henrickson like _that_ ” he snapped his fingers together “if you just told him-“

“ _Don’t.”_ Castiel interrupted, looking up, tone sharp with warning. He dropped his gaze immediately and turned away, cupping the empty mug between his hands.

Castiel’s impassive mask of a face was goddamn hard to read, but Dean was getting better at it. “Fine.” He shrugged and dropped the subject. For now.

 

Dean slouched further into the uncomfortable chair, fidgeting with utter boredom. Castiel ignored him until Dean’s leg started to bounce up and down under the old library table.

“Dean, stop that.” Castiel murmured, for the second time, eyes still affixed on the opened book in front of him.

Dean sighed dramatically but stilled his leg again. He hadn’t thought guard duty was going to be so soul-suckingly _boring_. He’d spent the first two class periods sitting outside the classrooms, just staring at walls and playing with his phone. Castiel had three classes today, with two in the morning and one in the afternoon, but he usually spent the time between them _studying in the library,_ so that was what they were doing. Well, Castiel was doing. Dean was doing his very best not to spiral into madness in this musty smelling hell-hole called the library basement. It was so quiet that they could probably hear a moth fart at twenty paces, and Dean had become intensely aware of one flickering light a few rows over that was _just_ arrhythmic enough to qualify as Chinese water torture. He sighed again, loudly, and the only other human in sight – a harried-looking girl two tables over – glared at him.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice sounded a little more strained, and Dean realized he’d been bouncing his leg into the underside of the table. He put his feet flat on the floor and crossed his arms in front of him, slouched down so much in the chair he could rest his head on the top of the chair’s backrest. The ceiling remained just as lifeless as the rest of the room, though there was a stain in the shape of… a blob. Fascinating.

Within five more minutes his leg was at it again. Maybe he really should invest in an iPod just so he had _something_ to keep him from-

Something clamped down over his knee, forcing it still, and Dean almost got whiplash from looking down from the ceiling too fast. Castiel had reached over to pin his leg down with one hand, and when he got Dean’s attention, he just uttered a terse, “ _Stop that_.” Dean could feel the warmth of Castiel’s palm through his jeans, and he quickly jerked his leg to the side, dislodging the hand. Castiel frowned and withdrew his arm.

“C’mon, man, I am _dying_ here.” Dean managed to say.

“You’re not dying.” Castiel replied, dryly.

“ _Of boredom_.” The girl two tables over snapped her book shut a lot harder than necessary, and Dean automatically quieted. “Can we go eat or something?” he whispered this time, and Castiel drummed his fingers on the table.

He finally nodded in resignation and closed his book as well. “Fine.”

 

They ended up at the same diner where Castiel had dropped the ball on Jess’ pregnancy. Again, it was busy and packed with the college student lunch run, but Dean managed to stare down some kids to get one of the last tables available. They just kinda veered off when they saw him going for the same spot, nervously eying him as they did. Dean felt a bit out of place here- too old (Jesus, _too old?_ ) compared to the sea of hormonal teenagers flowing by, but Castiel seemed supremely unconcerned – and had all day. He didn’t seem to notice or care about some of the curious looks that they got as they sat down, food in hand.

The table turned out to be one of those shitty, wobbly piece of crap tables the college could manage to afford, too small for two fully grown men, so their knees knocked together until they figured out what to do with their legs.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Dean.” Castiel said, and Dean looked up. That sounded ominous.

“Oh yeah? What?”

“You never did tell me the story behind the drugged wine.”

“Oh.” Right. He’d totally forgotten.

“Daphne said that it was originally meant for Sam, and that a woman named Ruby was behind it.” Castiel watched him, expectant, as Dean nodded in response.

“Yeah. It’s – it’s a long story.” Dean stalled, putting his thoughts in order.

“We both have the time, now.” Castiel told him.

Dean scratched the side of his neck. “Well, Ruby- she’s – _was_ – Sam’s mate.”

“A true mate, you mean?” Castiel interrupted, eyebrows rising.

“Yeah. He was already dating Jess, but once he met Ruby they broke up. Anyways, she was bad news from the beginning. Got Sammy into drugs, Red specifically. Her family had a lot of connections to drug rings and trafficking and shit, but Sammy wasn’t – well, let’s just say it was a bad time for everyone.”

“What happened?”

“He had a real big come-to-Jesus moment towards the end, and went cold-turkey on the drugs and Ruby. She didn’t take too kindly to it. Went all Fatal Attraction on him when he went back to see Jess after he got through withdrawal.” When Castiel squinted at that, Dean rolled his eyes. “She set their apartment on fire. Got convicted after that and went to jail. And got out, apparently.”

“She came back for Sam, then?”

Dean nodded. “That bottle was meant for Sammy. It was left at his office at school and he thought it was a congratulatory present for Jess’ pregnancy, but he gave it to me instead. And then I gave it to you, and that’s how you got drugged.”

“So Jessica is in danger again?” Castiel asked, concerned.

“Unfortunately. We’re trying to find Ruby before she can try anything else, but-” Dean shrugged.

“You don’t know where she is?”

“No. Been looking for a while. We think she’s the new supplier for the Red that’s been causing problems lately.”

Castiel made a thoughtful noise and his eyes slid over Dean’s shoulder. He swiped two fingers under his eye, gaze still fixed in the distance, and Dean turned around to look, accidentally knocking their knees together again, but he didn’t see anything besides college students still walking by or eating their lunch. Hm. He turned back to see Castiel finally biting into his sandwich, done talking.

 

After Castiel’s last class, they went directly to Daphne’s house, since Castiel had promised Shawn he’d come visit as soon as possible – which happened to be just after Shawn got home from school. His face lit up like a Christmas tree when he caught sight of the trench-coated figure, and he talked excitedly about some games he’d found in the attic when he had been exploring the house. Krissy was still at work, but Daphne had been standing in the doorway since Shawn had come running out.

Shawn grabbed Castiel’s sleeve to drag him into the house and up to the attic, Dean following a couple steps behind. They both nodded a hello to Daphne before ascending. The attic was packed with all sorts of strange and forgotten things from Daphne's uncle, who definitely fit the label of a hoarder, but Shawn led them to a small alcove that couldn’t be seen from the stairs, where a few small boxes had been opened and board games revealed. They were all classics – frayed corners and covered in dust. Dean picked up a Monopoly box and wiped the dust off the top, grinning. He turned and wiggled the box. “Man, I haven’t played these since I was your age.” he told Shawn, and Shawn frowned.

“I haven’t played any of these.”

Dean’s smile slipped a little. “You – you haven’t played Monopoly?”

Shawn shook his head, and Dean caught Castiel doing the same.

Dean sighed and sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and opened the box. “Everyone needs to experience this game at least once.” he said. “Last time I played this with my brother, we broke a coffee table.” Castiel cocked an eyebrow. “What? Don't give me that look. It was an intense game. Sit down.”

 


	27. A House is a Home

Daphne and Krissy found them after Dean had finished explaining the game and got roped into playing as well. Immediately, Krissy and Dean formed an alliance with quick nods, but Castiel and Shawn did the same, and they had much better luck. Daphne stayed neutral through the whole thing, which was how she bankrupted first. Shortly after, Dean followed, ‘cause he kept landing on freakin’ boardwalk _every time,_ which Castiel had somehow gotten in the very beginning, and Krissy refused to lend him any more money. He could only scowl and slam the rest of his money down in front of Castiel while Krissy and Shawn laughed at his misfortune. Even Castiel couldn’t help but smile as well, gums showing as his nose crinkled up. Krissy almost took the lead with some underhanded tactics, but eventually Castiel won, despite not really knowing what to do at all still. He was a lucky bastard, Dean would give him that.

“Alright,” Daphne said, when they finished, “Shawn, it’s time to start homework.” Shawn groaned and wilted in his seat a little. “Castiel,” she continued, turning, “are you staying for dinner?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, I’ve spent more time here today than I should have.” He looked at Shawn. “I have homework of my own to finish, you know.”

“Fine.” Shawn replied, pouting. “But are you coming back tomorrow?”

“We still have all these other board games to play, do we not? I wouldn’t miss it.”

 Shawn helped Castiel put everything back in the Monopoly box, and they all migrated downstairs. Daphne took Shawn back into the kitchen to start homework, and just as Dean and Castiel were putting on their shoes in the front hall, Krissy reappeared. “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, looking up and almost falling over.

“Can I talk to you for a moment? Privately?”

When Dean glanced over at him, Castiel nodded slightly, a silent ‘I’ll wait here’. “Sure thing.” Dean replied, and followed Krissy into the living room when he’d tied his shoes. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Krissy’s arms were folded in front of her, stiff but trying to act casual. “Uh, is your offer from last time still-?”

Wh – oh! “Yeah! ‘Course it is. Still interested in learning self-defense, Mr. Miyagi style?” Dean did some karate chops through the air for good measure.

Krissy remained unimpressed. “…Only if you never do that again.”

“Buzzkill.” Dean said, without any heat, going back into serious mode. “Yeah, I’ll tell Jo. She’ll be real happy to train you.” No doubt the two would bond over knife collections and snarky responses.

“Thanks, Dean."

“No problemo.”

“Seriously, _stop_. You’re really lame.”

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel couldn’t stop staring at Dean.

Of course, he’d always been aware that Dean was aesthetically pleasing - classically handsome even, but that wasn’t why he stared so hard now. Dean had always been described as a kind man by the family and friends Castiel had met, but he hadn’t experienced it in person until today. Watching him interact with both Shawn and Krissy; entertaining Shawn with board games and - he couldn’t help but overhear - offering Krissy self-defense lessons, showed a facet of him that Castiel very much preferred. Dean could be vindictive and violent, a requirement of his profession, but watching him smile at Shawn, eyes crinkling up in amusement when he’d had a good turn, well.

Dean finally looked over from the driver’s seat, eyes darting off the road for a moment. They were halfway back to his apartment, based on the street names sliding by. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Castiel frowned. “No.”

After a few more beats of silence, Dean glanced over again, uncomfortable. “Man, why are you staring? It’s freaking me out a little.”

“Oh. Apologies.” Castiel turned forward to look out the windshield. “I was just wondering – do you have other younger siblings besides Sam? Or kids of your own? You are very good with children.”

“…Nah, Sammy’s the only one.” Dean answered, shrugging. “Basically raised the little fucker myself, though.”

“What do you mean? Were you both orphaned young?”

Dean’s eyebrows rose, and he shook his head in disbelief. “Wow. Don’t pull your punches, do you?”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel replied, realizing the misstep too late. He had never gotten better at being tactful. “That’s very personal.”

“It’s fine. Nothing that everyone else already knows. Mom died, Dad raised us on the road, I looked after Sammy. Old news.” He paused, hesitating. “What about you? Not too bad at the whole kids thing, yourself.” Dean glanced over, gauging Castiel’s reaction.

Blinking, Castiel opened his mouth, then frowned and closed it again. He didn’t know what to say to that, what tense to use. Should he use the phrase have, or had a niece? She could be living somewhere with her mother, sworn to good behavior, but she could have also been silenced for good, her bones buried somewhere in the same forest as her father’s.

What was he doing?

The more he learned about these people - Castiel was making this harder for everyone, again. He was pulling Dean into the grave he’d already made for himself. Charlie would soon follow, if it came to that. At least he had gotten the chance to give Gabriel the warning he needed at lunch. He clenched his jaw, and turned his head to the side. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Uh, what?”

“For” he waved a hand “forcing you into this – arrangement. I didn’t realize-“

“Whoa, hey, chill. You don’t have to apologize.”

“You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want to - to follow me around, or - have me stay in your home, and-“

“Cas.” Castiel fell silent as Dean pulled over and stopped the car on the side of the road. He set his eyes determinately on the glove compartment in front of him, but out of his peripheral vision he saw Dean turning his whole body to face his side of the car.

“Cas, look at me for a second.” Castiel couldn’t help but do as Dean asked. It didn’t escape him that Dean was using his nickname again. “Seriously, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I was the one who started this mess, and I’m pretty sure Henrickson was the one who forced us into this whole Siamese twin thing. And, y’know, waiting in the library _was_ fucking boring,” Castiel huffed at that, “but it’s not all that bad.”

Castiel fiddled with the ends of his trenchcoat as they sat in silence. “Thank you.” he said, quiet.

“Don’t mention it.” Dean faced forward again and pulled the car into the middle of the lane again.

“You’re a very good man, Dean Winchester.”

The tips of Dean’s ears turned pink. “Don’t make it weird, man.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was kinda strange how well he and Castiel settled down into a schedule, especially in his apartment. Two scent-blockers inhabited the counter space in the bathroom now, and another pair of shoes cluttered the entryway. Like with Sammy, living in close quarters with another person was always a gamble, a test to see how many pressure points would and could arise, but besides Castiel’s lack of awareness of personal space and refusal to make his bed, everything ran smoothly. That first one remained more of an issue than the second, as it had happened so many times already that Dean couldn’t help be hyper-aware of where Castiel was in his apartment all hours of the day, just so Castiel didn’t suddenly appear right next to him and violate his personal bubble. It continued to be an issue because Castiel had developed a tendency to follow Dean around the apartment like a lost duckling, which made Dean's life a little more crowded but also made his job much easier. The front door squeaked on purpose, loud enough that Dean would wake up from the noise if he was sleeping, so Dean didn’t have to worry too much about Castiel wandering off without supervision at night, either.

And after that first day, Dean didn’t mention his knowledge of Claire or Amelia. Not when just _hinting_ about them made Castiel so upset.

The schedule followed the same pattern of that first day; mornings with a grumpy Castiel, utter boredom while sitting outside his classes, more boredom in the library (cut short most times when Dean irritated Castiel enough), a visit to Daphne's house, and evenings at Dean's apartment, where Castiel mostly followed Dean around or retreated to his room when Dean got tired of him breathing down his neck. Of course, Dean missed actually _doing his job_ instead of what he was currently doing, but for now Dean felt as though they were currently hovering at a weird tipping point, and he wasn't gonna mess with it. Henrickson hounded Castiel every day, meeting them every day at Daphne's diner to check on Castiel, and to remind both of them of his presence. He was becoming increasingly fed up with Castiel's continuing unwillingness. Castiel still wouldn’t even give him the time of day, which only made Henrickson angrier, and Dean liked those moments a lot more than he should. Of course, Dean actually had to keep Bobby updated daily as well with a short call, but nothing _happened_.

This time, the board game of the day was Life, with Dean in the lead. Finally. Castiel had just gotten the shittiest salary in the game, much to Dean’s delight, when Dean’s phone rang.

It was Sammy, so Dean picked it up without stopping the game. “This better be important, dude. I’m kicking ass at Life right now.”

“ _Dean.”_

At Sammy’s tone, Dean froze. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Ruby – she – Dean, she broke into our _house_.”

“Is Jess safe?” he asked, forgetting the game altogether.

“Yeah, we were both gone when she broke in, but Dean - she completely destroyed Jess’ stuff.”

“I’m on my way.” Dean said, already standing and making his way to the stairs. Halfway down, he remembered Castiel. _Fuck_. He turned back around only to find Castiel already making his way down the stairs.

“Keep going. I’m right behind you.”

 

Sam and Jess were waiting outside when Dean parked his Baby, already talking to Benny and another officer. Sam held out the piece of paper to Dean when he approached, and Dean saw the red diamond of Ruby’s handiwork at the bottom. That _bitch_.

“What’s it look like?” Dean asked Benny.

“It’s bad.” Benny said, “Cut up Jess’ clothes, tore up her office real good, even put another bottle of Red on their bed. We need to do somethin’ ‘fore -” His eyes darted over to Jess.

“Her office?” Castiel asked. Dean had completely forgotten he was there.

“Yeah…?” Benny answered.

“Did anyone see her do this?”

Crossing his arms, Benny narrowed his eyes at Castiel. “No one saw her do it.”

Castiel bristled in response. “Then how do you know it was Ruby who-“

“She leaves a signature, _couillon_.”

Jesus Christ. “Put it away, you two.” Dean growled. “We’re here for Sammy and Jess, if you’d forgotten.”

They both subsided at that.

“Of course, Dean. I’m sorry.” Castiel said.

Dean looked towards the house. Yellow police tape cordoned off the opened front door, the ends swaying in the wind. “I’ll talk to Bobby, see what we can do.” Hopefully it would be enough.


	28. Window of Opportunity

Once Bobby had been updated on the break-in, the effort to locate Ruby redoubled. They still had no luck. There wasn’t a lot of evidence to go on anyways - just the notes and the drugged wine, which made some of the officers question if Ruby was indeed the person responsible. It _was_ her though, Dean knew for a fact. It made him antsy that he couldn’t anticipate her next move, besides the fact that it would be to harm Jess and influence Sam. Unseen threats had always been the most dangerous kind, purely because no one ever saw them coming before they hit.

But that wasn’t the only problem on his shit-list.

“You know, I think I’ve been too lenient with you two.” Henrickson gritted out, rubbing at his temples. Castiel hadn’t uttered one word since they’d all sat down, stonewalling with the best of them, but he finally turned his gaze from the window to Henrickson at the change in tone. From his place behind the counter, Alfie paused for a second before pretending that he _wasn’t_ actively listening to the three. They were the only ones in Daphne’s diner besides one other college kid off in the other corner, since it was the middle of the afternoon.

“As much as I love our… _chats_ , I’ve been in this god-forsaken town for almost a week, and I haven’t gotten even _one_ good piece of info. So I’m done playing nice.” He leaned forward over the table, pinning Castiel with a stare. “I couldn’t figure you out before, but I think I’ve got it now. Tell me, how long did it take for-“

Henrickson’s phone rang, stopping him in the middle of his sentence, obviously surprised. He completely ignored them both and slid out of his seat, standing up.

“Well, that’s rude.” Dean muttered to Henrickson’s back, but Henrickson heard that and turned around, pointing one finger at him.

“I’m not done with you or your daddy issues either, Winchester.” Before Dean could even think of a comeback, Henrickson had walked away, putting his phone up to his ear and answering with, “Henrickson, here.”

Dean sat still for another moment. “ _Dick._ ”

Both Dean and Castiel watched, curious, as Henrickson paced by the counter, frowning at whatever the other person was telling him. Henrickson talked too quietly for Dean to hear, but then an idea formed in Dean’s head. “Hey, Cas,” he murmured, elbowing him in the side to get his attention, “how good's your hearing?”

“Excellent. Why do you– you want me to listen to his conversation, don’t you?”

“Uh, _yeah_.”

Castiel turned his head slightly, squinting at Henrickson. “He’s talking to a superior, if I’m not mistaken. Does the name Tessa mean anything to you?”

Dean shook his head. “Nope.”

Henrickson looked over to catch them staring back, and Dean resisted the strong urge to duck out of sight. Scowling, Henrickson turned his back on both of them and headed for the door. “Now he’s telling his superior to hold, since we’re listening in.” Castiel supplied, unhelpfully, as Henrickson stepped out of the diner and onto the sidewalk. He remained in front of their window, but he faced the road, away from them.

“Can you still hear him?” Dean asked, but Castiel shook his head in response.

“No. Too muffled.”

Well, there went that possibility. Dean shrugged and went back to eating his fries (he’d been the only one to get something to eat, since it was between meals, but he seriously couldn’t go to a diner and _not_ get something).

Sudden realization made him almost inhale the fries, and he coughed, eyes watering a little. Wait.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel asked, concerned, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, fine. Uh.” Dean cleared his throat. “Is your hearing always that good or is it like a transformation thing?” After his time in the shower this morning, oh god, actually most mornings, he mentally crossed his fingers for the second.

Castiel frowned at him. “It’s always-“

The window exploded inwards, showering them with its fractured slivers.

Dean lunged and pushed Castiel down, hearing the sharp report of a gun over the shattering glass.

He slid out of the chair to crouch on the floor and Castiel followed – below the threshold of the window. _Christ,_ there were two teens here too. “Everyone stay down! Behind cover!” Dean yelled, a hand on his gun. He didn’t know who had made that shot. Did Henrickson just try to shoot them?

From behind the counter, Alfie whimpered. “Guys, I- I think I got shot!”

Crawling over to the next booth, Dean ignored him for the moment, and quickly peered over the bottom of the window, scanning for Henrickson. His eyes caught on the dark suit, prone on the sidewalk, a red stain spreading over the pavement. Dean ducked back down. Fuck. _Fuck_. No one else had been in sight, so there was a sniper somewhere outside.

He fumbled his phone out with one hand and dialed 911, making his way to the door. Alfie whimpered again, and Dean glanced back towards Castiel, but Castiel was already making his way behind the counter, crouched low.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Officer Dean Winchester, there is a 10-71 in progress at, uh – Vermont and 8th Street. I need immediate assistance, we have a man down. Repeat, 10-71, man down. Shot came from the other side of Vermont - shooter still at large and- “ shit, as soon as Dean looked through the glass door, he could see Henrickson’s legs still moving, trying to find purchase on the ground, only a few feet away from the door. Sonovabitch was still alive. The dispatcher replied, asking him a question, but he dropped the phone on the ground instead of answering.

Swallowing, Dean scanned the other side of the street, zeroing in on the parking lot behind and to the side of a bank building. There hadn’t been any more shots besides the first one, and Dean could only hope that Henrickson had been the only intended target. Oh man, this was a terrible idea.

Quick as he could, Dean pushed open the door and ran to Henrickson, immediately feeling his exposure as a red target painted on his forehead. No one shot him. He grabbed under Henrickson’s shoulders and dragged him back into the diner, grunting with effort, and lines of blood trailed after them.

Henrickson was still conscious but fading fast. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as he choked, trying to breathe. Based on the bullet entry on the upper chest, it'd gone through his lung. He’d drown on his own blood before anyone else would arrive, and Dean couldn’t do anything to save him.

“Hey, hey, Henrickson, can you hear me?” Dean asked, putting pressure on the wound, and Henrickson finally looked at him, trying to clutch at his arm. “An ambulance is on the way, just hang in th – shit!” Henrickson’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out, going limp on the floor.

Dean felt for a pulse, slipping on blood, but he couldn’t tell if Henrickson’s pulse was too faint to be felt or if his heart had stopped completely.

“Cas, how we doing back there?” Dean asked, voice strained.

Silence.

“Cas? Is Alfie okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alfie called back. “Bullet grazed my shoulder but Castiel said I’d live.”

Dean paused. “Cas not with you back there?”

“He left through the back. Said he was going to distract the shooter.” As he said that, another bang made Dean duck back down over the still form of Henrickson, but this time, it hadn’t been aimed at the diner.

Oh, shit.


	29. This is Gonna Hurt

When the next several seconds passed without another shot, Dean looked up, towards the door. He couldn’t stay here, but he also couldn’t leave Henrickson to die. Damn, he wished Benny were here right now, but maybe-

“Alfie, come over here.” Dean ordered, “Keep your head down.”

The shuffle of clothing across the floor tracked Alfie’s progress, but it stopped when he came in sight of Henrickson. “Oh my God! Is he dead?!?” Alfie whimpered, not wanting to come any closer.

Dean didn’t know the answer to that. “Get over here.” Reluctantly, Alfie complied, favoring his right arm. “I want you to keep pressure on these wounds – one here on the front and the other on his back. Can you do that for me?”

Alfie nodded, face white as a sheet, and replaced Dean’s slick red hands with his own. At the feel of blood, Alfie’s pale color took on a tinge of green. “I, uh, I think I’m gonna be sick,” he said, faintly.

“Just don’t puke on Henrickson.” Dean replied, wiping his hands off on his pants. “I need to go after Cas and the sniper, but help is on the way, okay?”

“Okay.”

The far-off sound of squealing tires sounded from outside, but it wasn’t accompanied by any siren. Dean looked out the glass door just in time to see the back end of a vehicle turn out of the parking lot across the street, gunning its engine as soon as it did.

Dean sprinted out of the diner, banging the door open with his shoulder, but he wasn’t fast enough to ever catch up with a car. He couldn’t even recognize the make or model from this distance before it disappeared behind another building, but Dean didn’t slow down.

When he got to the parking lot, Dean put a hand up to his mouth to yell, “Cas! Where are you?” No one replied. “Cas?” Dean called again, dread creeping up his spine. “Castiel!”

The sound of sirens finally could be heard in the distance, but Castiel was nowhere to be found.

 

By the time backup got there, wheels screeching across the road as they turned onto the street, Agent Victor Henrickson was already dead.

Alfie threw up for real when the paramedics declared it, shaking. Afterwards, they looked at the deep scratch the bullet had made in the flesh of his arm, but he didn't even needed stitches. Dean waved them off when they turned to him.

Besides the paramedics, the diner soon crawled with cops, canvassing the scene and waiting for forensics. Bobby even called Rufus in after they got the story from Dean, suspecting a shooter with a military background, with the necessary military-grade rifle that had the kind of firepower to make a bullet go through Henrickson and a window before burying itself in the back wall. Castiel remained missing, although a small spray of blood found on the sidewalk (beside the road that Dean had seen the car turn onto) made his stomach turn uneasily. Had Castiel been shot as well? Was _he_ the one the sniper had been after, or had it been Henrickson? From the car turning in the same direction the drops of blood had been going, he was guessing Castiel.

Lawrence had gone more than half a year since their last fatal shooting, but they'd never had a federal agent murdered in the street before. It’d been a long time since Dean had seen someone die hard and bloody like that.

“Go home, Dean.” Bobby finally said, as the sun began to set. Dean remained at the scene, hovering, watching forensics pore over every inch of the place. The only other thing he’d done was wash the blood off of his hands before his report to Rufus.

“But-“

Benny clapped his shoulder, and Dean jumped a little at the suddenness, still twitchy. “You’re just gettin’ in the way, now. C’mon.” Benny had arrived just after the first responders - mostly for moral support. A partner in trouble never sat well, but with the immediate danger past, Benny was probably ready to go home after such a long day.

Dean sighed, but went along when Benny dragged him to his car.

“Don’t you worry, Castiel won’t die easy.” Benny assured him. “It’ll take a lot to kill a T-1 like him.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” They both knew that even though that was the case, a bullet to the brain would kill anyone. If Castiel was still alive, Dean needed to find him, fast, before the sniper did.

“He’s survived this long without our help.”

 _Barely_. The man remained so socially and technologically inept it was actually impressive. And he’d never had to deal with someone shooting at him, from what Dean knew about his time after escaping the Preserves. The Preserves themselves didn’t allow any firearms at all – it’s what had made their downfall possible, after all – a power that any T-3 could use to kill a T-1 from a distance, before claws and teeth could be involved.

“You did everything you could, brother.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugged one shoulder, unlocking the Impala when they got to her. It hadn’t been enough.

“Dean.” Benny grabbed his shoulder again before he got in the car, dropping the hand only when Dean finally turned to face him. “We’ll find him. You’re not the only one looking.”

Not that they’d have any more luck, but Dean gave Benny a small smile anyways. “Thanks, Benny. Keep me updated, yeah?”

“Will do. Now go home and get your beauty rest, princess. You look like you need it.”

“Fuck off.”

 

When Dean made it back to his apartment, suddenly drained of energy once the adrenaline dissipated, he could only collapse on the couch. He’d been hoping Castiel would’ve come here after the shooting, but the apartment stayed silent and empty in his absence. The phone in his pocket buzzed again – it had been buzzing all evening really, but only now did Dean check it, unsurprised to see multiple texts and calls from everyone he’d ever friggin’ met. He texted Sammy back first, just to make sure he knew Dean was alive. Charlie was next. No way was he getting off this couch to go see her. Too much work.

After that, he could only lie there and try to think why the hell Castiel had left the diner - and why someone would have the bright idea to snipe an FBI agent in broad daylight. Dean could only assume that the two were related. This had everything to do with Castiel's past - whatever the hell that man hadn't told Henrickson, someone had come to make sure Castiel couldn't tell anyone about it. And distracting the shooter had been a suicidal idea. Castiel had purposefully lead the sniper away from the diner, for some godawful reason.

Someone knocked on his door, and Dean groaned. “What?” he yelled in the direction of the door. Had Charlie come up to get the details?

“Dean, it’s Krissy. Open the door.”

Dean rolled off the couch with a grunt, his bad knee popping as he stood up to let her in. “What the hell are you doing here so late?” Dean asked her, as soon as he opened the door.

She brushed past him into his apartment, “I heard about the shooting. Daphne was really upset.” Dean knew that much. She’d been on the other side of the police cordon as soon as word had gotten out, since it had happened at her diner. “Castiel is still missing, then, right? Not dead?”

“Not dead.” Dean answered, and Krissy turned to watch him closely, debating something.

“He-“ she stopped and shook her head, but then decided to go on with it, “Okay, so – I know where he is. If he's not- k'now.”

“What? Where?”

“The basement Shawn and I were living before. I can take you there.” She made for the door but Dean grabbed her arm.

“Ha, ha – no. How about, you tell me where he is right now, and stay here.”

Krissy narrowed her eyes at him.

 

Ten minutes later, Dean found himself trailing after Krissy as she turned onto another street. He'd been unsuccessful in getting the location out of her, so he'd been forced to take her with him to find where she'd squatted with Shawn before. Castiel had been there previously (the only confidant Shawn and Krissy seemed to tolerate), and had decided it would make a good hideout for him as well.

“-I mean,” she continued. “Of course she knew we were squatting down there, but it wasn’t like she was using the space anyways.” The building she had taken him to was a college building of some kind he thought, but she ignored the real entrance to slip into the alley to the side, looking back to see if Dean was still following. “This way.” Their footsteps echoed strangely in the dark alleyway.

“Wait,” Dean murmured, “stop for a minute.”

Krissy stopped and Dean did the same, catching the small inconsistency for real this time. The footsteps stopped a moment too late.

Dammit, that better be Cas, or Dean’s night was going to get a lot fucking worse in a moment.

Dean turned and looked back towards the entrance of the alleyway just as their follower gave up on secrecy and walked towards them, holding what Dean knew for a fact was a very lethal gun in the direction of their chests.

“ _Dean Winchester_.” Gordon drawled. “Fancy meeting you here.”

_Shit._

Stepping in front of Krissy, Dean made an abortive movement for his gun, but Gordon interrupted with “- _ah ah_ , I wouldn’t do that if I was you. Take it out and put it on the ground, slowly, and kick it towards me. Don’t make me shoot anyone, now.” His eyes- he was flashing his red alpha eyes at them, and they glowed in the darkness.

Dean did as he was told. He tended to do that when he had a gun pointed at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Gordon?” Dean asked, kicking his own gun away from him, watching it skitter over the uneven pavement. Krissy remained silent behind him.

“I know you have handcuffs on you too.” Gordon ordered, instead of answering. “Put them on and throw the keys over here.”

Hesitating, Dean glanced back at Krissy.

“Don’t make me shoot the lady.” A warning, all calm and collected. In charge.

Dean took his own handcuffs out and snapped them over his wrists, holding them up for Gordon to see. He tossed the small key to the ground between them, right next to his gun. “Happy?”

“Perfectly,” Gordon answered, smiling. “Now,” he held up his own pair of handcuffs, “one for the girl.” He tossed them over, and Krissy put them on after a look from Dean. When they were both cuffed, Gordon relaxed his hold on the gun, making his way closer. He was still wearing his police uniform from this afternoon, when Dean had seen him at the diner.

“Now, where’s Castiel? Hmm? Can’t have gone far with that bullet through his leg.”

“You fucking _dick_.” Dean said, realization coloring his tone. “ _You’re_ the one who shot Henrickson?”

“It was a nice shot, I have to admit. Getting two people with one bullet, even if the second was unintentional. You never know how glass will deflect it.” His eyes remained a stark blood-red.

“Dean,” Krissy said, quiet, but Dean shushed her when Gordon’s eyes flickered between them. Dean already knew.

“But that’s not what I’m here about.” he went on. “I want Castiel, and I know his _bitch_ will know where he’s been hiding.” Gordon hadn’t been looking at Krissy when he said that.

Dean could feel himself break out into a cold sweat. “What are you talking ab-“

“Don’t play coy, Dean. I knew you were to pretty to be a beta. My good friend told me all about you, but it’s very nice to finally have some proof. Here, I’ll show you.” Gordon moved forward again, gun still keeping them in place. Digging into his back pocket, he pulled out a phone - a hot pink phone. Dean did a double-take, recognizing it immediately, as Gordon scrolled through it for a minute before speaking. “Here’s a text to your brother. ‘I talked to him this morning when you were on your run. Dean is fine, but I wish he’d stop thinking that being an omega is always a bad thing.’”

Dean froze, could only watch as Gordon looked up at him. “Hold on, there’s one more.” He dabbled with Jess’ phone, gun still pointed at him even though his eyes were on the screen. And Dean knew exactly what he was going to do next. When he turned the screen around, Dean could only stare at the picture Charlie had taken of Dean and Castiel, mute. The text underneath read, _Look who I found in bed together this morning!!! ;)_

He couldn't ever catch a break, could he?

“So, I’m going to ask again. Where’s Castiel?”

This was going to end badly, no matter what he did here. Gordon's eyes still glowed red and his breathing stayed heavy as the drug flowed through his body, lowering inhibitions and revving up aggression. It obviously hadn’t been a lot of Red – just enough to give him that extra _kick_.

“I don’t know.” Dean answered, very aware of the building right beside him.

Gordon shook his head. “I’m going to ask you one more time, Dean. Where. Is. Castiel?”

“I _said_. I. Don’t. Know.”

“Pity.” Gordon replied, and shot Krissy in the leg.

She went down instantly, screaming in pain, and Dean rocked forward, going for the gun. Gordon, anticipating this, stepped out of reach and swung the gun at Dean’s face.

Dean had never been pistol-whipped before now. It hurt like a bitch. His vision blinked out, and he somehow ended up kneeling on the ground, held up only by the rough grip Gordon had on his collar, when it fuzzed back. He tasted blood in his mouth. “Now, now, Dean. Be a good omega. Don’t make this worse for yourself.”

Wincing, Dean tongued around a loosened tooth. Oh, this was gonna hurt. He looked Gordon dead in the eyes, and spit a glob of blood and saliva onto his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in a couple days?! whaaat?!?


	30. By the Bell

Getting pistol-whipped a second time was just as unpleasant as the first time.

White hot pain radiated into his skull, down his spine. Dean could practically feel brain cells winking out of existence as his head snapped to the side with the blow. The loose tooth didn’t fall out, but he bit the same place where his teeth had gone straight through the side of his tongue from the first hit, prompting a new welling of blood, and he could feel more of it tracking down the side of his cheek. The pointy edges of guns were terrible for the face.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Gordon told him, ever so calm. He took a moment to wipe the spit off his face with his sleeve. “Honestly, I didn’t want it to come to this. I was just going to follow you two to where Castiel has been hiding, but I forgot how good T-2’s can hear, even omegas like you.” His grip tightened on Dean’s collar. “But we’re close, aren’t we? I knew you’d be the perfect weak link, running after your alpha so fast.”

Keep him talking. He’d want to, with all that Red running through his system.

“You lookin’ for him ’cause you missed the shot the first time? Not like you to miss.” With his previous years abroad in active duty for the military, Gordon had continued to be one of the best sharpshooters in the Lawrence police department – and now everything became a little bit clearer. He was such a good soldier and policeman that a lot of smaller offenses had been brushed under the rug, but this wasn’t anything minor now. He’d gone completely off the deep end.

Gordon shook his head. “I didn’t miss. I needed to bring Castiel in alive. I just had to get rid of Henrickson, first. Two birds with one stone, really – well, one shot. It gave his boss a message _and_ it gave us time to make our own move. I didn’t expect that Castiel would run for it and give us the slip.”

_Us._

“Who’s got you on their payroll now, Gordon? Ruby got you under her heel?”

The hand on his collar moved up and tightened in Dean’s hair, pulling his head back sharply. “I know what you’re doing, Dean. I’m the one asking the questions, and I can do a lot more than that with you sitting pretty on your knees like that. So. Where is he?”

Dean could only grin up at him.

“Right behind you,” answered Castiel.

Before Gordon could make a move to face him, Castiel dragged him back from Dean, forcing both of his arms behind his back and making him drop the gun. Gordon snarled as Castiel slammed him headfirst into the brick wall of the building, pinning him there.

As soon as Gordon’s hold on him was broken, Dean turned to Krissy, and saw the dark stain on the jeans over the outer part of her thigh. Eyes tight with pain, Krissy didn’t look up when Dean crawled the short few feet over to her. “Krissy, how you doing?”

“Shut up for a minute.” Krissy said through clenched teeth, still not looking up.

The hell? “What?” Dean finally noticed that she was fiddling with her handcuffs – with a bobby pin. Of course she knew how to lock-pick cuffs. The first lock clicked open after a little more maneuvering, and she got the second off faster with one hand free.

Once freed, she clutched at her leg, putting pressure over the bullet hole and hissing at the pain. “ _Jesus_ that hurts.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Dean replied, and knocked her hands away for a moment, still cuffed himself. “Lemme see.” No bright red blood spurted out, which meant it hadn’t hit an artery. Thank god. “Just keep putting pressure on that to stop the bleeding. We’ll need to get you to the hospital, but you’re not gonna bleed out here.” Not like Henrickson did, anyways.

“Huzzah.” Krissy muttered.

The cuffs he had on needed to come off as well. Dean glanced back to his gun and spotted the keys to his handcuffs right next to it, lying forgotten on the concrete, and he stood up to make his way towards them. The scuffle between Castiel and Gordon drew his attention.

Castiel kept his voice low, but Gordon didn’t quiet with him. “-have something they want, Castiel - or should I call you Jimmy? Did you honestly think they’d let you keep it to yourself?” At that, Castiel drew him back and slammed him into the wall again.

“Who is giving you your orders?” Castiel growled, voice deep with intent. Dean picked up his keys off the ground and uncuffed himself with ease, heading towards them. Castiel finally noticed him as he neared, but didn’t let up on Gordon.

“I think these will be of some use.” Dean said, dangling the handcuffs from one finger. “I also think I know the answer to that particular question. Remember I was telling you about Ruby? She really likes to fuck up people’s lives.”

Castiel looked at him and tilted his head, considering, and took the handcuffs.

Once Castiel had Gordon’s arms cuffed behind his back, Castiel swept the legs right from under him, and unable to stop his fall, Gordon hit his head on the brick wall on the way down, sprawling in a stunned heap. “Stay.” Castiel told him, and limped over to Krissy. Not a lot, but just enough for Dean to remember that Gordon had put a bullet in his leg as well. Right.

Castiel dropped to his knees beside her, outstretched hand hovering, uncertain. “ _Krissy_ , you-“

“Yeah, got shot. Seems to be the theme of the night.”

“I came as soon as I heard the gunshot. What are you two _doing_ here?”

“Looking for you, dumbass,” Dean interrupted. He turned back to Gordon, pointing his own gun at the stirring figure. “He said don’t _move_ , Gordon.”

“I specifically came here so no one else _would_ be involved.” Castiel huffed, concerned eyes still on Krissy.

“And what then, Cas? Just hand yourself over when they got to you?”

“If that meant keeping everyone else safe, _yes_.” Castiel turned to face Dean, glaring daggers.

Dean shook his head, fed up. “Man, we get it,” he snapped. “You’re one self-sacrificing son of a bitch. Let’s not tell anyone else about my problems and pretend like everything’s fine. How’s that working out for you so far?”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I was under the impression that you _couldn’t_ help, with Henrickson blackmailing you.”

What.

“Guys, still bleeding here.” Krissy said.

“Shit. Sorry.” Dean pulled out his phone, ready to call _another_ ambulance – and Benny this time.

“Wait.” Castiel cut in.

Dean ground his teeth in irritation, thumb hovering over the screen. “What now?”

“I don’t know who else is after me.” Castiel replied. “I’ll need to go before anyone else gets here, if-“

“Are you _serious_ right now? My friends in the force are the best help you’re gonna get.” Dean turned to Gordon again. “Gordon, I swear to god, keep moving and I’ll put a bullet in _your_ leg.”

“Yes, that did help Henrickson, didn’t it?” Castiel countered.

“HOLY GOD.” Krissy shouted. “Y’know what? Fine. Dean, what’s Benny’s number?”

Their argument ground to a halt. “Uh.” Dean said.

“His number, Dean. _Now_.”

Once she had the number, after a few more moments of recalcitrance from Dean, she dialed it with her own cellphone. Dean heard Benny pick up on the other end. “Hello, Benny? This is Krissy. Um-“ she hesitated. “Dean said I could call you if I needed help and he wasn’t answering, and I-“ her voice broke, and Dean could only imagine Benny sitting up in his chair at that, one of his cats probably dislodged from his lap at the movement.

“I was walking back home and a police officer stopped me and took me into an alley, and I didn’t realize anything was wrong, but then his eyes wouldn’t stop glowing, and- he- he pulled a _gun_ on me and shot me, and-“ Krissy’s lip quivered as Benny interrupted, alarmed. “-No. In the leg. No, it’s not bleeding too much, I’m putting pressure on it. – Yeah, he’s still here, I handcuffed him. – No, I kicked him with my other leg and managed to get his own handcuffs on him. Can you please come get me?” Krissy nodded and told him the address, voice wobbling. “Okay, hurry, please.”

She ended the call and cleared her throat. Castiel and Dean could only stare at her. “How was that? Good?” she asked.

“You have a very questionable skill set.” Castiel finally said.

“Thanks, Cas. You should probably go back to my place before Benny gets here. You too, Dean.”

“What?” Cas replied, irritated. “No.”

“Oh, yeah, Cas,” Dean grinned. “There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I’m leaving you to your own devices. We have a lot of things to talk about.”

Besides moving a little, Gordon had stayed relatively quiet, but now he chose this moment to speak up. “You know they won’t believe her over me, right? And then I’ll come after both of you."

"You'll find out soon enough, Gordon." Dean answered, feeling his face tentatively. 

“Hey, Dean, give me Gordon’s gun. It’ll only be a few minutes until Benny gets here.”

Dean hated to even ask if she knew how to use it. “ _Only_ if you don’t take the safety off. _And_ we’ll be right around the corner until Benny gets here. Oh, and tell him the real story this time, please.” He gave her the gun once they’d tied her scarf around her leg as a rudimentary bandage.

Castiel only spared Gordon one more quick glance when they were done. “Tell your bosses that Castiel sends his greetings, not Jimmy. If they want what I have, then _they_ can come and try to take it from me. I’ll be waiting.” Another thing Dean needed to wring out of Castiel later. Great.

 

The door to his hideout was literally just around the corner – hidden really well, but still. Not the best place to be if Gordon decided to share their last location with the class. There’d been some leftover construction material left back here, and the backdoor to the basement had been covered with a large piece of tin roofing, propped haphazardly against the wall.

Once they heard Benny approaching, Dean followed Castiel when he disappeared into the basement, tugging the tin quietly back in place and closing the door.

“The security guard makes one round at night and another early in the morning when she locks and unlocks the doors of the building, but the basement isn’t used, and she’s known about Krissy and Shawn for months. The backdoor has a broken lock, but no one else knows that besides the security guard. We should have no trouble tonight.” Castiel told Dean, leading the way through the dim hallway, into what seemed to be a small teacher’s lounge.

Dean collapsed into one of the rickety chairs around an old plastic fold-out table, groaning, as Castiel made his way to the sink. “So, Gordon got you in the leg, huh?” He rubbed at his face, fingers coming away bloody.

“Yes.” Castiel replied, his back to Dean.

A pause. “Yes? That’s all you’re giving me?”

“I thought we could tend to our wounds first _before_ the interrogation.” Castiel muttered, turning back around.

He held something in his hand, and he approached Dean and the table, dragging another chair in front of Dean’s and sitting down with a heavy sigh. From this close, Dean could see Castiel had a thin white towel in his hand that he'd wet at the sink, and now he reached out for Dean's face.

Dean leaned back as far back in the chair as he could when he realized, and Castiel paused, frowning. “I can do that myself, thanks.”

“Dean.” Castiel warned. “Let me. I feel- responsible - for getting you in harm’s way.”

After a moment of silent conflict, Dean sighed and leaned forward again. Fine. Wasn’t like Sammy or Benny hadn't done this before for him anyways, after he'd gotten himself into a scuffle.

The second time, Dean held still as Castiel reached forward with his other hand to grab Dean's chin and tilt his head to the side to see the cuts the gun had gouged into his skin. Dean startled, too aware of Castiel's fingers pressing against his jawline as Castiel started to dab the blood from his face with the cool cloth, touch gentle and careful. No, actually, he changed his mind- this wasn’t anything like the rough swipes to the face Sammy or Benny would’ve done to get the blood off his face. Too late to pull away now. Castiel would really know that something was up if he did that. An involuntary shiver went up his spine a few moments in, and Castiel stopped. Shit.

“Are you cold?” he asked, concerned, but Dean shook his head and kept his eyes on the corner of the wall and ceiling, and Castiel resumed after another pause.

The room stayed quiet as Castiel worked, the sink faucet dripping occasionally in the silence. He could feel Castiel’s careful gaze concentrating on the side of his face, and it weighed Dean down to the chair. It was a rare thing for Dean to let someone else take care of him for a change. He didn't want it to end.

“There.” Castiel finally said, and tilted Dean's head back to admire his work. Dean looked up at Castiel for a second before his eyes darted away.

He cleared his throat. “So, uh, you still gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

“Of course, Dean. I’ll tell you all I can." Castiel put the bloody cloth on the table. "I tried to warn both you and Henrickson before that the Old Heirarchy would still be after me, though that was ignored.”

“Well, you wouldn’t _tell_ us anything, so…”

“I was trying to keep everyone as safe as I could.”

“Yeah, well, too bad we got roped into this shit anyways, then.” Castiel gave him a wounded look at that.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Castiel asked, defensive.

“Dammit, Cas, didn’t it ever occur to you that you could fight back? Don’t you have something that they want? Can’t you use that against them?”

Castiel looked away, finally breaking eye contact. “I would if I could, Dean.”

What did that even mean?

“I don’t even know what I have, let alone how to use it.” Castiel told him, suddenly finding a very interesting thread on his pants leg to pick at. “I’ve been trying to give Charlie time to figure-“

“You brought _Charlie_ in on this before me?” Indignant, Dean almost scrubbed a hand over his face before remembering the cuts. At this point, he didn't even have the energy to be mad. He was starting to fade, fast. “What the fuck, dude.”

“It was a last resort, after finding out you were being blackmailed by Henrickson. I had to find someone who’d have a chance on figuring it out after I-“ he paused. “-if the worst happened. We can go visit her. I doubt they suspect I have any connection with Charlie, after all.”

Dean yawned, and Castiel considered him, blinking.

“Perhaps after we rest. My leg still needs time to heal before I feel confident enough to go anywhere.”

Dean was too tired to argue with that. Hell, he’d been too tired for this shit _before_ Krissy had come to his apartment forever and a half ago.

“Even after Krissy and Shawn left, the security guard let them keep their mattress here. Follow me.” Castiel got up, and Dean leveraged himself out of his chair, head still throbbing and too fuzzy with fatigue to really process that sentence until Castiel led them to the next small room, and he found himself staring down at one – count ‘em – one – mattress.

Oh, hell no. Not _again_.


	31. Holdout

Castiel didn’t even notice when Dean stopped in his tracks, just continued on and grabbed one of the pillows off the bed, and then- moved away from it?

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, as Castiel dropped the pillow on the floor a short distance away, making sure the dull light coming in from the hallway didn’t fall directly on him.

“Sleeping on the floor.” Castiel replied, like the answer was obvious.

Well, now he just felt bad. The floor looked like it was covered in the industrial carpet school buildings tended to have – unyielding and scratchy. It would be one hell of a night if he tried to sleep on it. “You just got shot today. You can have the bed. I’ll-“

“You’re sleeping on the bed.” Castiel told him, firm, and purposefully sat down on the ground next to the pillow. Wow, okay, he seemed awfully adamant about that, but he wasn’t going to get much sleep on such a hard surface.

Dean couldn’t believe he was gonna say this. Last time had been bad enough. Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean shifted on his feet. “I mean, the bed’s big enough, so…”

“Don’t offer if it makes you uncomfortable.” Castiel replied, turning away from Dean as he shrugged off his trenchcoat. “Besides, I’ve slept without a bed for years. I’m used to it.” While he said this, Castiel polled up his pants leg, and Dean saw the bullet wounds where the shot had passed through his calf – already scabbed and looking days, not hours, old. Dean’s eyes flickered up to Castiel’s arms, where the beginnings of the silvery scars could be seen from the edges of his shirt.

When he was done checking the scab, Castiel dropped the pants leg back into place and draped the trenchcoat over himself. He looked up again at Dean when he was done. “What about Henrickson? Did he-?”

Dean shook his head. “Didn’t make it.”

Something flickered across Castiel’s face, and he looked back down. “I see.”

After a moment, Dean gave up and sat down on the mattress, over the covers. He yawned again and rubbed at his eyes with a hand. “So, what’s your plan? For this-“ Dean gestured vaguely “whole thing?”

“I’ve been trying to buy Charlie time to figure out what I’ve been hiding these last few years by making myself an easy target. I didn’t know what else to do. After Henrickson, I knew that someone else would be coming for me from the Forests, and they’re more powerful than you think; smarter as well. Since they had known about the Underground before-“ Castiel paused, but Dean filled in the next part just fine, “-I couldn’t trust that I’d be safe with the Underground outside, either. So I kept to myself, living in the streets, but I’d thought, after a year of nothing, that I’d finally escaped, but – they never stopped looking.”

So that’s why Cas had finally accepted Daphne’s offer to stay with her. “Does Daphne know all this?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. She doesn’t want to know. We both agreed it would be safer that way, if anything came of it.”

Dean sighed, and they fell into a silence. Now that shit had hit the fan, Castiel was downright talkative.

“Tell me more about Ruby?” Castiel asked, breaking the quiet, “How is she involved in this?”

“I don’t really know, myself.” Dean said. “Thought she was only here for Sammy.”

“How did they meet?”

“Sammy met her at a hospital, like, four years ago. She’d OD’d two days before, slipped into a coma, but woke up when Sammy arrived, of course. True mate love story shit. I told you she was from this big powerhouse family that had ties in drug rings and omega trafficking, right?” When Castiel nodded, Dean went on. “Ruby tried to recruit him in, make him part of the family, y’know? She got him into drugs, but, uh, once Sammy found out about the omega trafficking, he backed the hell out real fast.”

“What family is she from?” Castiel asked, frowning.

Dean was so tired he was blanking on her last name. “Um…it’s not coming to me right now. But her father’s name is a big name in – not your Underground – but regular criminal underground circles here. It’s a weird name. Azazel?” Recognition flashed across Castiel’s face. “You know him?”

“Yes, but only by name. He’s from the Forests.”

“Powerful there too, then?”

“He’s related to the current alpha of our ruling pack, so yes.”

“Shit.” Dean lay down, back against the mattress, to look up at the ceiling. “Isn’t that a kick in the pants.”

“Many people still have connections to the Old Hierarchy. The borders between our two societies are much more flexible than you think.” He sighed. “It was inevitable that they would use someone close by. Ruby might have already been living here before she got word of me.”

Dean closed his eyes for a second, but opened them again before he didn’t have the energy to do so anymore. With some effort, he sat up again and scooted up the mattress and maneuvered himself under the covers. His eyes drifted shut immediately. “Okay, no more talking about evil dicks,” He managed to say. “I need some shut-eye.”

A soft rustling sound, probably Castiel laying down himself, came from the floor. “Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel said, and Dean could only grunt a response.

It was blessedly silent in the next few minutes, but – goddammit. The side of Dean’s face still prickled with awareness. Cracking an eye open, Dean scowled at Castiel, caught him staring back, looking very uncomfortable.

“Dammit. What?” Dean growled.

“Dean, you-“ Castiel shut his mouth, looking like he was going to drop this altogether. “Nevermind.”

“Just spit it out, Cas. What is it now?”

“You - How-“ Castiel fell silent again before trying once more, “How long have you known – about – “ he couldn’t stop fiddling with the edges of his trenchcoat, and Dean opened both eyes. “I can’t - I’m not- “

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean interrupted, and turned over to face the wall, back to Castiel.

 He wasn't gonna think about it.

 

* * *

 

 

May 15th, Eleven years ago

Castiel discovered the first cracks completely on accident. He’d suspected, years before this; felt out the rough, uneven edges by himself, but it hadn’t been enough to realize the extent of all the hairline fractures radiating under their very feet.

When first they’d been stripped naked and thrown into the snowy tundra as youths as their last Rites to prove themselves, most had left the stunted ones, the ones who could not shift into wolves, to die on their own. It was only common sense, leaving only the strongest, the ones who could survive, to join the clans. As soon as they could, the rest of the youths changed into their fur-covered forms and disappeared into the forest without looking back, ready to live their month of isolation from the villages by themselves. It had been Castiel that hadn’t been able to bring himself to abandon the other two scraggly and shivering youths from their village. Jimmy had already shifted into his own wolf, ready to leave as well, but he’d come back with a huff, red eyes glowing through the white flurry, already knowing what Castiel was planning, and not liking it.

Their Rites had always been clear, but it had said nothing about helping each other. Not one soul died during their trial that year, though that success had been attributed to Jimmy, the only alpha of the rag-tag pack that they had formed, when they had found their way back to the village. Castiel hadn’t corrected them, and neither had Jimmy. He’d always been content to live in his twin’s shadow, especially since he was the beta.

Now, though, that hungry and cold month of winter had long since passed. Spring was slowly turning into summer – the first one Castiel had seen since moving to the city of Caspar to be near his brother, and his expecting omega mate, Amelia. It had been almost two years since they’d last seen the other. Jimmy had been busy studying to become a doctor, and Castiel busy with roaming the outer reaches of the Forests with a peacekeeping pack and observing relations between the smaller and more distant packs of the northern edges of their borders. He’d left that pack, and some of his friends behind, only to be reunited with others – specifically, Anna and Balthazar.

“Castiel!” someone called, startling him out of his reverie. Castiel glanced up from the stream bed where he had been staring to see Amelia walking towards him. Standing up, he faced her and clasped her outstretched arm. The swell of her stomach was just becoming noticeable now.

“Amelia. How goes it?”

“Well, Castiel. Are you still ready to run?” Castiel nodded. An omega couldn’t run on her own without supervision, if she valued her safety. “Good! I’m getting tired of sitting in the house all day. Jimmy is always too busy to humor me. Come on, then!” With that, she turned and twisted her robe up and out of the way, loosening it around her shoulders so her larger wolf form would still have hold of it. Castiel did the same, as uncaring of his nudity as she was with hers, feeling the twisting change shudder under his skin, rippling down his limbs.

As soon as his own paws touched the dirt, Amelia shot off into the forest, leaping nimbly over the small stream. Unused to running very far, Amelia couldn’t outpace Castiel, so he stayed comfortably beside her as she enjoyed the day inside the forests.

He didn’t notice at first when she slowed down, but finally he stopped and trotted back, only to find her shifting back to human form. She stumbled, pain creasing her face as she caught herself on the side of a tree, clutching at her stomach.

Panicking, Castiel shifted back as well, running to her. “Amelia! What’s wrong? Is it-?” He couldn’t recall hearing that shifting was dangerous for pregnancies, but-. She pushed away his hovering hand from her stomach, shaking her head.

“No, don’t worry, just- just give me a moment.” She breathed heavily for a few more moments, then slowly straightened, pain clearing from her face. When she turned to him again, she was smiling. “See? I’m fine. I just had to make sure.”

Castiel didn’t step back from her side, uneasiness clinging to him from the scare. “Make sure of what?”

Amelia looked at him. “It’s the best way for the baby to come out healthy – that it can change when I do. I hadn’t been able to change in quite some time, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t stunted. It gave me a scare, though. I thought it wasn’t going to-” she rubbed her hand over her stomach “-well, it’s fine now.”

When she moved away from the tree, Castiel couldn’t help but grab her arm. “What – what do you mean? Why were you scared? What happens if they don’t change?”

“The stunted ones never make it, Castiel.” she said, confused by his concerned tone, “We all try to change, if we’re strong enough, to make sure they have a wolf. Sometimes that means we just have to try again.” Amelia patted his arm. “But I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He could only watch as Amelia slipped from his nerveless grasp, frozen still as she ran ahead.

_Crack._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my abo universe got more horrifying the longer i thought it over - oops


	32. Castiel Novak

April 9th, Three Years Ago

All three wolves stopped and turned at the sight of the first glittering light on the dark horizon. It disappeared before the sound of the explosion could be heard, hollow and faint from this far away, and Castiel shifted back when the other two did to watch with human eyes. Their vantage point on the top of a large bluff made it easy for them to see the next flare of light, a blue one this time, and hear the low boom roll over the silent tree tops.

“Uriel won’t be pleased by such an arrogant display.” Anna remarked, her rust colored hair caught in a breeze.

“Might want to consider moving the transfer to tomorrow night there, Cassie.” Balthazar added. “Uriel will double the patrols tonight to keep the revelers out. Harder to get by with two sick omegas.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, the omegas will be too sick to move by tomorrow at this rate. Jimmy was-“ _terrified_ “very adamant that it had to be tonight.”

“And you can’t bear to say no to your alpha, of course.” Balthazar said, tone dry.

“He’s not-“ Castiel gave up on the longstanding argument and turned his attention back to the fireworks. The anniversary of the Civil War always made tensions run high. No doubt the people of the New Hierarchy would continue their tradition of hunting what wild wolves they could find on their land in celebration, if they hadn’t been driven to extinction outside the Forests already. Uriel would tear apart any trespassers that had the bright idea to intrude on their land at such a time.

“I’m sorry I can’t help tonight.” Anna said, from her place by the tree. “The other peacekeeper packs are having a meeting I can’t miss.”

“Yes, yes. Best not to arouse suspicion.” Balthazar told her. “We’ve got this handled. Go pull rank in front of all the green-paws, will you? I want some entertaining stories to hear tomorrow.”

“Balthazar,” Castiel admonished, but Anna flashed a quick grin.

“Oh, if it’s anything like last season’s meeting, I’ll eat them alive. Be safe.”

They nodded as she turned back into the forest, her shape twisting in the shadows before she disappeared. Balthazar sighed. “Well, I’d best be off as well, then. I should make contact with the outside before Uriel gets too cautious. Meet at the usual spot?”

“Yes, that would be ideal.” Castiel said. “Make sure to get back quickly. We might have to leave earlier if the omegas are still…”

Balthazar saluted. “Of course, boss. Even if we have to carry them out, hm?”

 

When Castiel approached his cabin, where the two omegas were currently being hidden, he paused at the tree line. A faint light shone through his window. Frowning, he picked up the pace, heading for the door. He had told them both to not turn the lamp on when he wasn’t home, and yet they had, putting themselves and the Underground at risk with such a small inconsistency. It was bad enough he seemed to have gotten their sickness, based on his sore throat and runny nose, though as a full Shifter, his immune system would likely only keep it at that while the two null omegas languished under high fever and shakes.

As Castiel approached the door, it swung outwards, revealing Jimmy in his travelling clothes.

Castiel faltered. “Jimmy, what are you doing here? You’re not-” He saw Amelia and Claire behind Jimmy, quiet and wide-eyed. Alarm crept up his spine. “Jimmy, what’s wrong?”

Jimmy, worryingly disheveled, gestured him in, pulling back so Castiel had room to step into his own house. He could see the two omegas from where he was standing, curled in all the blankets he owned and side by side in his bed, breath wheezing painfully in their chests. They had gotten a lot worse in the hours he’d been gone, since the last time Castiel had gotten Jimmy to look them over, concerned for their health.

“The omegas, are they-“ Jimmy grabbed Castiel’s arm, pulling his attention away from them.

“They’re not going to make it, Castiel. Please, you have to leave them and take us across the border instead.” Castiel finally noticed the small packs by Amelia’s feet, Claire clinging to her arm, wide-eyed and silent.

“Jimmy, you’re the one who got these two out in the first place, why-“

Jimmy lowered his voice, stepping close so that Amelia and Claire couldn’t hear. “When you told me they were sick, I – just had this horrible suspicion, and I went back, and-“ he glanced back at his family and back to Castiel “the other alphas - they’re planning something terrible. This is it.” Jimmy took Castiel’s hand and placed something small and cold into his open palm, curling his fingers around it so that the other two didn’t see.

“What-“ Castiel started, but Jimmy continued to talk.

“Just keep it until we’re all safe. Please, we have to get Amelia and Claire out of the Forests - we need to leave, immediately. I don’t know – I don’t know how long it’ll take them to find out-“

“We can’t leave now,” Castiel told him, “not until I know the way is clear. I need to meet with Balthazar first.” Though he’d not had the interest to start his own family at all, Castiel would do anything for Jimmy’s, especially for Claire. He couldn’t make a rash decision now.

Jimmy shook his head. “Castiel, I don’t think you understand-“

“I’ve been doing this route for years, Jimmy. You have to trust me. Stay here, away from the windows. Turn out the lamp. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

When Castiel arrived at their agreed meeting spot, the wind had stilled, and everything was silent. Balthazar was nowhere to be found; not surprising, considering Castiel had come too early anyways, spurred by this new emergency.

Castiel took the small cold thing Jimmy had given him out of his leather pouch that hung around his neck – where he had stored it on his way here, and turned it around in his hands. He’d never seen such a thing before – didn’t know what it was. The sharp edges of its rectangular shape dug into the pads of his fingers when he squeezed it – some sort of plastic or metal, then. Quickly, he tucked it back into the pouch and sat down near the hollow of the dead tree they had set as their meeting place, ready to wait a little longer.

Once or twice, the small snap of a twig caught his attention, but nothing but a squirrel came of it. The faint boom of fireworks petered out as it got later, the revelry fading into the night.

As the time stretched on, Castiel paced instead, increasing his pace as the time Balthazar should have arrived passed by, judging by the pale moon that hung overhead. He couldn’t wait any longer. Something was wrong.

He had just turned back in the direction of his small cabin when howls rent the air ahead of him. A hunting party, by the sounds of it.

Castiel broke into a run at the sound, shifting in midair to sprint faster. He darted through the old forest, lighted only by the weak filter of moonlight wavering through the trees. Castiel knew these woods well, and he ran between the twisted trunks, relying on memory rather than sight. When he approached the area where he had heard the howls, a short distance from his own cabin, Castiel slowed and stopped, suddenly smelling the sharp scent of blood. He couldn’t stop here for long – he needed to get back to the house, but he shifted back to human form anyways. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Castiel asked, braving the sound for one second.

No one replied.

A scream – this time high and afraid – came from the direction of his house.

_Claire._

Castiel ran hard towards the house, but he only got past two downed trees before he tripped over something that shouldn’t have been there. He fell onto wet leaves, grimacing as his hands slipped for purchase. When he turned to look at the obstacle, he stilled in place. Balthazar’s face stared back at him, unblinking, cheek pressed into the leaves. A strangled noise made its way out of his throat, and Castiel crawled away as fast as he could, stumbling upright when he found dry ground. His heart beat a tattoo in his ears, thundering too loud to hear anything else. Shakily, he dried his hands on his clothes, and knew he was staining it red.

He had to get back home.

Silent, Castiel ran as fast as he dared, but he slowed down as he approached his house, the sound of a scuffle reaching him. He crouched low and made his way forward, stopping at the edge of the tree line, behind a tangled bush.

“Don’t – don’t hurt him!” Amelia screamed, struggling against the hold Ion had on her arm. “You promised he wouldn’t be harmed!” Behind her, Claire and Jimmy were dragged out of Castiel’s cabin by two other members of the Garrison peacekeeping pack.

“Ion, Hester, take them away from here.” Uriel emerged from the house behind them. “Make sure she’s treated well for her information.” As he said this, he kicked the legs from underneath Jimmy, who fell to his knees, unable to stop his fall with his hands tied behind his back.

When Amelia started yelling again, Ion slapped her across the face. “Quiet!” Amelia fell silent.

Claire started to cry silently, breath stuttering with the effort of keeping it a quiet as she could.

Castiel could only watch as the two were dragged off into the night, unable to go up against four members of his own pack to save them. He paused and counted again. Four? But hunting parties always had five-

Something hard collided with the back of his head.

The next thing Castiel became aware of was someone tugging on his arms, dragging him across the ground. Blearily, he opened his eyes again, his own struggle against the pull weak and uncoordinated. He had only been unconscious for a few moments, but it had been enough. The back of his head still ached with a star of pain.

Hael dragged him the rest of the way forward, dropping his arms suddenly when they were close enough. When Castiel tried to stand, she pressed her peacekeeper dagger against his neck. “Don’t get up.” she warned, and Castiel subsided back, on his knees and resting his weight on his heels, mirroring Jimmy’s position.

Uriel and Ephraim stood behind Jimmy, just paces in front of where Hael had dropped Castiel.

“Castiel,” Uriel greeted. “I should have known you’d get involved with this. Always the bleeding heart.”

Castiel didn’t answer and looked at Jimmy instead, meeting his eyes. Even though Jimmy had never had experience with peacekeeping packs, he stayed quiet, face set. He knew what would happen next.

“Hael, Ephraim, you’d kill a member of your own pack? For what?” Castiel asked, and Ephraim looked away, though Hael pressed her dagger deeper into Castiel’s neck.

“You’ve always had an unnatural sympathy to the stunted ones,” Hael spoke up behind him, “but we’ve always turned a blind eye to it, but becoming a spy for the outside? Giving them information on our Hierarchy? You’re a _traitor_.”

“What? But I-” Castiel, shocked, looked back towards Jimmy. Jimmy shook his head slightly, eyes begging him not to say anything.

“We’ve already taken care of Anna and Balthazar.” Uriel said. “We’ve tolerated your group long enough, but it looks as though all the other loose ends have been tied up.” He gestured back to Castiel’s cabin, where smoke had started to trickle out of the top of the open doorframe. That damned lamp. “We didn’t even have to kill the other two. The stunted ones do have a nasty habit of dying of sickness, don’t they?” Uriel put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, claws lengthening out and pricking into skin, drawing blood. He held his own dagger in his other hand, and his eyes glowed red with threat. “Now, which one of you two has the information that we’re looking for?” After both stayed silent, Uriel sighed. “What about you, Jimmy? You tell us, and we’ll get you back to your wife and daughter. I bet Castiel talked you into doing this, anyways, right?”

The leather pouch around Castiel’s neck weighed heavily, but Jimmy stayed silent, still staring at Castiel, even though his face had gone white at the mention of Claire and Amelia. It was true, Castiel had talked Jimmy into joining. He’d resisted getting involved in the Underground for so long, fearing for his family’s safety, so why wasn’t he speaking up now? What information was more important than that? No, Castiel couldn’t let Jimmy die here, even if it meant throwing himself into harm’s way, so be it.

Castiel gestured to Uriel with his head, trying to convey himself, but Jimmy shook his head again. Uriel caught the gesture and narrowed his eyes. “Castiel, is there something you want to tell us?”

If he had to incriminate himself, so be it. “Only if you swear that Jimmy and his family come to no harm.”

“Castiel, don’t-“ Jimmy started, but Uriel stepped behind him fully, digging his claws into his shoulders, drawing blood and putting his dagger against his throat. Jimmy cried out at the pain.

“Don’t interrupt your brother.” Uriel told him, and leaned forward in Castiel’s direction. “I’ll swear to the First Wolf if you just answer me this one question. Do you know where it is?”

If he did that, both of them were as good as dead. He needed to be vague, make sure they couldn’t get rid of Jimmy or him easily. “I-“

“Don’t give it to them!” Jimmy pleaded, desperate. Uriel grinned.

Castiel realized what Jimmy had done too late. “Wait, please, don’t-“

Uriel slit Jimmy’s throat in a quick motion, and blood sprayed forward as Jimmy made a horrible gurgling noise. Castiel closed his eyes too late, warm red droplets spattering his face, getting in his eyes.

He blinked a few times to take the sting out of his eyes before he looked up again. Uriel was still opening and closing his mouth, but all Castiel heard was a buzzing noise, drowning everything else out. He could still feel the dagger against the side of his own throat, cold against his skin. They should have bound his hands as well.

Without warning, he twisted to the side, the dagger cutting into the side of his neck before he could grab hold of the grip of the dagger, wresting it from Hael and slicing deep into the inside of her thigh, cutting into the artery. She screamed and fell back, clutching her leg, and Castiel spun, on his feet now, to face the other two.

Ephraim came at him fast, trying to keep him from shifting, but Castiel had always been more skilled at fighting in both forms, and let him get close. When Ephraim lunged at him with his dagger, Castiel knocked it away and buried Hael’s dagger into his side. Ephraim clutched at Castiel as he wrenched out the dagger, grunting strangely. Something sharp clamped around Castiel’s ankle, pulling his leg back. Losing his balance, Castiel fell to the ground, dragging Ephraim down with him.

He fell onto his side, elbow connecting with a sharp rock, and Castiel looked down at his leg just in time to see Uriel in wolf form, teeth digging into his ankle, before Uriel violently shook his head, tearing into skin and muscle. Teeth gritted in agony, Castiel lunged at Uriel with the dagger, but Uriel let go and darted back before the steel could touch him.

Castiel rolled away from Ephraim and wobbled to his feet. Uriel circled around him, patient, and Castiel tried to keep his front to him at all times. Like this, Uriel had the advantage, and Castiel couldn’t shift to a wolf in time. He could only hope to get Uriel to make a move first, so he growled a challenge at the alpha, and wobbled a little more than he had to. At that, Uriel suddenly sprinted around him, almost getting behind Castiel before leaping straight at him, too fast for Castiel to get his arm up in time. Teeth dug into the arm clutching the dagger, and Castiel fell onto his back from the weight of Uriel slamming into him. Shaking his head again, Uriel tore into Castiel’s arm, claws slicing into the flesh he didn’t have a hold of.

Screaming in pain, Castiel dropped the dagger, and Uriel lunged for his throat when he did. Castiel threw his other arm up just in time to protect his neck, and Uriel latched on to this arm instead, doing the same damage. Quick as he could, Castiel fumbled around for the dagger again, hitting the side with his fingers before getting in in hand, and he plunged it into the side of Uriel’s neck, slicing and twisting, feeling slick blood pour down his arms. Uriel eventually slowed, his jaws going limp around Castiel’s forearm, before collapsing on top of him.

He took a minute to catch his breath before attempting to push Uriel off him, an almost impossible task with his flayed arms. The only sounds in the clearing was the crackle of a fire still growing in his house, and the heavy panting of Ephraim, still on the ground and clutching at his side.

It took Castiel a minute more, but he eventually got to his feet again, arms drawn in close against his chest, and he staggered over to Jimmy, hoping he’d still be alive, but one look told him otherwise. He could feel the heat on his skin from the fire now, but he didn’t look back at it again.

"Castiel, please." Ephraim whimpered, curled around his wound.

Castiel watched him for a moment, the space inside his head still and quiet, and turned away.

He only stopped for brief moments to rest against a tree before gathering enough strength to continue, but his arms continued to bleed steadily, draining him of energy. At times, he'd find himself leaning against a tree, unsure how he'd gotten there or how much time had passed. He hadn’t realized how far he walked until his foot encountered something new; a strangely smooth and hard surface, like stone. He blinked and looked down, and saw two bright yellow lines running down the middle of a long dark road that stretched out of sight, around the corner of trees. It was clear of tree branches overhead, so Castiel finally sat down and laid out on it. He just needed to rest for a little bit. It only made sense to look at the stars, so he kept looking, ignoring the gradually increasing rumble coming down this stretch of black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good God, ~60K and counting, and still not even a kiss. Get them together, girl! *slaps face*


	33. Mirror, Mirror

Present Day

Sometimes, Dean didn’t realize how much his morning routine made him feel human again until it was missing. He’d been spoiled these last few years, not having to live out of gross motel rooms and use the small complementary soaps and shampoo bottles that came with them. His years here in Lawrence had been the longest he’d ever stayed in one place, since…well, Lawrence, _before_.

There weren’t any windows in the basement, so Dean woke up almost eight hours after they’d fallen asleep, based on the time on his watch. Quiet blanketed the dark room, and the events from last night now lacked immediacy, though his head still ached with the reminder.

Without waking Castiel, Dean managed to sneak out of the room to find a bathroom down the hall, but he didn’t have any toothpaste or real soap or towels, so he had to make do with scrubbing his fuzzy teeth with a finger and drying water off his face with a paper towel. He still felt gross. And smelly. All of the excitement from yesterday had made him sweat through his scent-blocker – enough for Cas to notice yesterday and try to _talk_ about it, so he really needed to go back to his apartment to get more scent-blocking deodorant and his suppressants.

Fuck. He wasn’t gonna think about it. He had enough on his plate already.

As soon as he was done, Dean wandered back to the room to find Castiel shifting and twitching in his sleep, face pinched. A bad dream, no doubt. Deciding against nudging him awake with a foot, Dean kneeled down and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently.

He only managed to say, “Hey, Cas-” before Cas jerked under his hand, startled awake. Castiel grabbed Dean’s forearm in a painful vise, his other hand going around Dean’s neck. With a sharp motion, Dean found himself pinned to the carpet, Castiel above him, the hand around his neck tightening.

“Cas-“ he wheezed, grabbing at the hand around his neck with his own free hand. For a split second, Dean felt Castiel start to leverage the rest of his weight behind the stranglehold, but then he let go, realization flashing in his face. Dean gasped for air and sat up, coughing a little as he rubbed his neck.

“Dean- what-“ Castiel withdrew, putting distance between them, eyes wide. “ I – are you alright? I’m so sorry – I-“

“I’m good, I’m good.” Dean said, seeing the guilt-ridden look on Castiel’s face. He sat up and rubbed at his neck. Luckily, Castiel had realized what was happening in time, so Dean wouldn’t even have bruises, but still - _Jesus Christ_. His poor heart still wanted to jump out of his chest. “Remind me never to wake you up in the mornings again, though.” Castiel drew back further, looking down. “Hey, I’m fine. No harm, no foul.”

“Dean, I almost-“

“Yeah, well, you didn’t. It’s not like I haven’t seen this kinda thing before.” At that, Castiel turned his head to look at Dean, blue eyes searching, and Dean was the one to look away this time. “Do you, uh, do you have those kinds of nightmares often?”

Castiel didn’t respond right away, rubbing his face. “No, not…usually. Though recent events have made them become more frequent.”

“Hm. Well, like I said. I’m fine.” No one liked getting put in a stranglehold, but he couldn’t bring himself to _not_ forgive Castiel for something he had no control over. It wasn’t too long ago that he’d been on Castiel’s end, lashing out at unsuspecting people waking him up from his own nightmares. This was just the first time Dean had been the recipient. And now he knew how not fun it was in either position.

With that awesome train of thought, Dean started to get to his feet. “C’mon, now that you’re awake, we need to go talk to Charlie. Pit stop at my place first, though.”

“Dean, wait.” Castiel said, grabbing Dean’s arm in a hesitant hold this time, and Dean paused. “Last night, when I asked you about how long you’ve known that we’re-“

He just couldn’t get a hint, could he? “Really? You want to do this conversation now?”

Castiel let go of Dean’s arm.

Dammit. “Cas, just- just drop it, okay?” He’d be completely fine with never bringing this topic up ever again, but Castiel was looking at him like this wasn’t the last time he’d try to bring up this true mates crap. But he wasn’t going to do it now, and that was good enough for the moment. Dean cut his eyes away. “C’mon, get ready. We need to go.”

 

At this point in the game, he should’ve expected it, but he really hadn’t. “Oh come _on_!” Dean managed to say, unbelieving. He stepped into his apartment, horrified eyes skipping over the torn upholstery and the mangled posters to his vinyl collection, which someone had meticulously gone through to break each record in half. “No no no not the _vinyl_!” Dean groaned, bending down to pick up two halves. Castiel followed him into the apartment, silent, careful not to step on anything that had been tossed onto the floor.

Dropping the broken pieces, Dean made his way through the rest of the house to survey the damage. The kitchen and his bedroom were trashed, but he stopped in his tracks when he entered the bathroom. God fucking dammit. “Ruby, you _bitch_ ,” Dean muttered to himself, “that is _it_.” His suppressants and scent-blockers were missing from the counter, and he knew his hidden backup stash would be gone as well. And the lipstick writing on the mirror? Classy.

_See you soon, Dean!_

A heart had been drawn at the end. Was it bad that Dean was now seriously considering murder?

“Dean,” Castiel spoke up from behind him, alarm in his voice. “Did Ruby know about Charlie?”

They both stood still for a moment before scrambling out of Dean’s apartment and into the hallway. Quick as a shot, they made their way to her apartment door, but Dean pulled Castiel back when he raised a hand to knock on the door. He shook his head when Castiel cocked his head in question, then silently tried the door handle. It was unlocked.

Dean pushed the door open to reveal a quiet apartment and stepped inside. Castiel stayed close as Dean made his way back to Charlie’s room.

From the doorway to his left, a figure popped into sight, swinging an object at Dean’s head.

“Get out of my house!” Charlie yelled, and Dean barely had time to bring his arm up when the object collided with him, breaking in two with the force of the swing.

“Ah! Goddammit, Charlie! It’s me!”

“Dean?” Charlie looked relieved for a second until she realized what she was holding. “What the hell! You made me break another prop sword!”

“You attacked me! Why is everyone suddenly attacking me?!”

Charlie pointed the remaining half of the sword at him. “You freaking snuck into my apartment at like, eight in the morning! You-” She finally noticed Castiel. “Wait, Castiel?” Her eyes flicked between the two of them. “What is this about?”

“I think we need your help.” Dean told her. “Uh, did you know Gordon was the one that shot Henrickson?”

“WHAT?!?!”

 

A shit-ton of explaining later, Charlie was back in the game. They had migrated into her bedroom, back to her computer lair.

“Sooo…you want me to try to find Ruby, is what you’re getting at here?” Charlie asked finally, and Dean nodded from his place on her bed. “Okay, well, that’ll take a little bit, and I might not be able to find her if she’s _really_ off the grid, but I’ll try. I’ll see if I can track her from when she got out of prison ‘til now. Just, if I get in trouble for this, I want immunity or whatever.”

Dean rubbed at his face and winced. “Charlie…”

Rolling her eyes, Charlie cracked her knuckles and scooted her computer chair closer to her two-screen set-up. “Just sayin’.”

Castiel leaned forward from his place at the doorway. “Charlie, before you start, have you made any progress on my, um, my-“

“Flashdrive is the word you’re looking for,” she supplied from her chair.

“-flashdrive. Yes. That.”

Charlie chewed on her lip. “Uhhh, about that. It’s proving to be a lot harder than I thought it would be. Decoding the encryption, that is.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, eyebrows drawing down.

“It’s the- just come over here for a sec and I’ll show you.” At that, Castiel made his way over from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe, and Charlie brought up something on one of her screens. “Okay, so an encryption is-“

Whoop, nerd speak. Time to tune that shit out. Dean pulled out his phone to find even _more_ texts than he’d had last night. Jesus. Benny had sent him multiple texts – updates on Krissy (stable and already back home) and Victor (back at the station). Benny would’ve told Bobby everything, so his curt text to call came as no surprise, but his next one was.

_Unclear whether Gordon had accomplice in our force. Stay low for now. New FBI agent coming. -Bobby  
_

Other texts from concerned friends just getting the news about Henrickson’s shooting were still flooding in as well, but Dean ignored those. And – hmm. There was one other text that he’d gotten only an hour ago, from an unknown number. He didn’t know the area code for it.

_Dean Winchester –_

_It would be in your best interests to call me._

_-M_

That was a bit strange.

“Argh, why didn’t I think of that!” Charlie’s outburst drew Dean’s attention away from his phone. “I’ve spent all my time trying to do this in _English_. This just got, like, a billion times more complicated. Obviously you know Enochian, but I sure as hell don’t.”

“One of Sammy’s TA’s is doing his minor in Enochian Literature.” Dean added. “We can call him up, tell him it’s extra credit. Kevin something.”

“That…is an awesome idea. I’ll have Sam give me his number later, but I digress. We were working on the Ruby thing.” Charlie rolled her shoulders. “Okay, let’s find this motherhugger.”

 

Almost an hour in, Dean’s stomach growled, announcing it couldn’t take it anymore. Castiel was entertaining himself with looking through Charlie’s comic books, and looked up when Dean groaned and hopped off Charlie’s bed. They’d been making awkward eye contact every time one of them freakin’ _moved_. Ignoring Castiel for the moment, Dean headed for the door, patting Charlie’s shoulder on his way out. Before food though, he needed to do something else first. Charlie’s apartment didn’t have any suppressants or scent-blocker, but he could take a quick shower while they waited for her to work her magic. He was uncomfortably self-conscious about smelling like anything at the moment.

Once Dean made it to the bathroom and closed the door, he turned to the mirror. Oh God. His face looked like it had gone a few rounds with, well, the wrong end of a gun. He leaned closer for a better look. A few cuts here and there, almost hidden by the ugly splotches of color on the one side of his face. Dean took off his shirt as well, but he didn’t find any other bruises or scrapes.

The door he’d forgotten to lock pushed open, and Castiel took one step in before he saw Dean and froze.

“Uh,” Dean said. “You following me everywhere now, Cas?”

Castiel’s eyes dropped down to Dean’s chest and seemed to get stuck there. “Wh- No, I was-“

“Eyes up here, buddy.” Dean said, waving a hand in front of his chest up to his face.

Face becoming an interesting shade of red, Castiel snapped his eyes up. “I’m- you were-“

Dean cocked an eyebrow.

“…kitchen.” Castiel tripped over his own feet backing out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

“Fucking idiot.” Dean muttered, turning back to the mirror.

He wasn’t grinning. He wasn’t. “Stop that.” Dean told his reflection. It didn’t listen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, I disappeared off the face of the earth for a long while. Sorry bout that! Life was being a little bitch but she's better now. Also, you guys are all awesome!


	34. Making Friends

This was all highly inconvenient, Castiel thought, not for the first time. A disorganized pantry stared back at him in agreement, cans of soups and beans stacked haphazardly, tilted on their shelves, waiting for the slightest disturbance to collapse. But that wasn’t what his thoughts currently revolved around.

“You were kitchen?” he muttered to himself, face still burning from the residual embarrassment. Assuming Dean had left Charlie’s room for the kitchen after his stomach had growled, Castiel had headed to the bathroom instead. Unfortunately, it seemed that they’d both had the same idea – showering first. He hadn’t decided who had been more surprised by the accidental walk-in, but he knew who had been the most affected.

Just the thought of the brief view of pale freckled skin and lean muscle made his face flush even further.

Back in the Preserves, such a small thing had never made him feel this way. Nudity had been commonplace – nothing to be ashamed of or hidden away like it was here. The bodies of his brothers and sisters had never affected him – they were just that – bodies. There had been small flashes of interest at times; a particularly beautiful face or pleasing scent, but it had never been anything like what his brother or pack mates had described when they had found someone to couple with.

And he’d been too confused to understand what he’d been feeling when Meg had made advances, so long ago, right after he’d turned into an alpha.

This time, he was very aware of the fact that seeing Dean more exposed than he’d ever been before had reduced him to nonsensical sentences and sweaty palms in the space of a couple heartbeats.

Unsettled, he tried to turn his attention back to rummaging through Charlie’s food, but it was no use. He hated being reminded of it – every time he caught himself in the mirror with red eyes or forgot to reapply the scent-blocker, he’d only see Jimmy in his place staring back at him, or feel like he was suddenly in Jimmy’s own skin, looking though his eyes. _What if he was Jimmy?_ a part of him would whisper again, _what if he’d always been an alpha?_ and he’d have to look away. That wasn’t a thought he could dwell on for long.

And now, he had Dean to complicate it further. Did he have these feelings now because he had realized that Dean was his – or Jimmy’s – true mate? Last night had revealed many things, and he couldn’t have missed Dean being one of them. When Castiel had gotten close to tend to the cuts on Dean’s face, even under the metallic tang of blood and pungent sweat from the exertion of the past day, Dean had smelled like – actually, Castiel couldn’t quite describe it, other than the fact that it had been…arresting.

Maybe it was for the best Dean had refused to talk about it last night or this morning when Castiel had tried to bring it up. Especially after he’d almost harmed Dean from when he’d tried to wake him out of his nightmare this morning.

It seemed as though Dean had known for a lot, lot longer than Castiel. Maybe even from when Dean had walked in on Castiel when he’d been under the effects of his induced rut.

“What, nothing in the fridge?” a voice asked from right behind him.

Castiel jerked in surprise, one hand making an unfortunate connection with one of the delicately stacked piles of cans, which then decided to roll off the ledge. He fumbled for one, the others falling to the floor in a tin racket. Seconds later, one more can decided to join in and clanked to the hardwood, missing his foot by inches. Castiel turned a mournful gaze to Charlie, who’d snuck up behind him in his distracted state to ask her question.

Charlie started to laugh before catching sight of his face. Then she laughed even harder.

“Don’t- don’t worry, Cas.” she managed, patting his shoulder. “Happens - all the time.”

Castiel didn’t believe her.

“Guys? What was that?” Dean’s concerned voice asked from down the hall.

“Nothing!” Charlie yelled back. “Get your naked ass back in the shower!” Castiel tried not to imagine that and failed spectacularly.

Dropping to her knees to gather the wayward cans, Charlie grinned at Castiel, as if she knew what she’d done. Castiel bent down to help her after setting the one he had caught back into the pantry, noting with some relief that Charlie didn’t seem to mind the dented edges some of the cans had gotten in their escape. “So…” Charlie drawled, “what’s going on with you and Dean?”

His head snapped up to look at her. “What?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Charlie said, “the whole time you guys’ve been here, you’ve been doing this whole,” she waved a hand vaguely, “staring at one another when they’re not looking thing. Plus, Dean’s been giving out his classic mixed signal vibe around you. You guys are not being subtle about it. So?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing is going on.” Castiel told her, and immediately doubted it himself. Dean had been staring at him?

“Hmmmmm.” Charlie hummed in disbelief.

They picked up the rest of the cans in silence before Castiel couldn’t help himself any longer. “What mixed signals?”

“Aha!” Charlie poked a finger into his shoulder. “I knew it! Tell me!”

Backtracking, Castiel shook his head. “Charlie, really. Nothing is happening.”

“But…?”

“I believe you should ask Dean about that. I’ve found it impossible to talk to him about anything that could classify as feelings.” Castiel replied, tone dry. He kept his attention on putting the cans back in their place.

“Woah, the sass has finally made an appearance!” She started to say more before they both heard Dean approaching down the hall.

“No, but seriously, what was that sound?” Dean asked, appearing around the corner in only his jeans, shirtless _again_. Castiel had the wherewithal this time to avert his gaze and turned to close the pantry doors with a definitive clack.

“Just dropped some things looking for food. Where’s your shirt? As much as I love you, I don’t want a free viewing.”

“Blood on it. Can I borrow-?”

“Yeah, top left drawer, black one. Should be big enough.”

When Dean left, Charlie turned and hit Castiel in the arm multiple times. “What the frick happened?”

But Castiel kept silent and only lifted one shoulder in response.

 

Lunch was a quick affair, once Charlie convinced Dean to make it for them.

Charlie still had this suspicious look she kept throwing at them both. She wasn’t being covert about it. Although both Castiel and Dean didn’t say anything to one another, it seemed as though by some mutual agreement they ended up on opposite sides of Charlie.

“Are you guys doing this on purpose?” she said, when they were done eating.

“Charlie.” Castiel warned.

Dean’s phone buzzed on the table. “Doing what on purpose?” Dean asked, grabbing it and swiping the screen.

“I pride myself on being able to sniff out any gays, I mean – it takes one to know one and all that jazz, but this whole time you guys have been here, it’s been like a Bermuda triangle for my gaydar. Just, - spinning-“ she turned to Castiel. “He’s not listening to a single thing I’m saying.”

“No, he’s not.” Castiel agreed, watching Dean. He’d stilled in place, staring at his phone. “Dean?”

When he didn’t respond, Charlie bumped his shoulder. “Dean? You okay?”

Without a word, Dean turned the screen in their direction.

It was a dark and grainy picture of a woman, bending down to face them. She was frowning, not looking at the camera, dark hair falling in waves past her shoulders.

“That looks like a webcam picture,” Charlie said. “Who is that?”

Dean stood up and withdrew the phone. “That’s Ruby.”

“What?!?” Charlie sputtered, “Where- who sent you that picture? When was that taken?”

With a look at Castiel, Dean made his way to the hall. Castiel followed him without a word.

When Dean started putting on his shoes, he finally answered. “It’s from an unknown number. Got another text just a little bit ago telling me to call, but I ignored it. This new one has that picture and a message to get Henrickson’s laptop. I’m going to take a shot in the dark about who signed up to go through his hotel room after the shooting.”

“Gordon.” Castiel supplied, and Dean nodded as he started in on his gun holster. “That doesn’t explain who sent that picture or when it was taken.”

Charlie had followed them, worried. “Guys, this is some crazy conspiracy bullcrap going on here, so I’m going to just go ahead and ask. What if it’s a trap? Could it be a trap?”

“Ruby didn’t seem to be aware of it if it is.” Dean said, shrugging on his jacket over the holster. Castiel waited just to the side, ready. “Charlie, you stay here and call Sam. Get the ball rolling on the encryption. Just, don’t tell him about Ruby yet.”

“Gotcha.” Charlie replied.

Glancing over at Castiel, Dean asked, “You ready?”

Castiel nodded.

“Okay, let’s go. Hopefully no one is watching my car.”

 

Luckily, they saw no one on their way to the car, and didn’t notice anyone following them. Dean had been to Henrickson’s hotel room before, but when they got to the hotel, Dean went straight to the bored-looking lady at the front desk.

“Hey there.” Dean smiled wide, turning on the charm.

“Oh, hello.” The lady said, perking up a little. “How can I help you?”

Dean pulled out his badge and showed it to the lady. “I’m here about room 204. Is it still on lock-down?” When she nodded, eyes going wide with realization, Dean leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter. “I need to get in there again. Can you give me a key?”

She eyed his clothes for a long second and looked at the badge again. “Of course, officer.” she said eventually, and went to it. She handed over a keycard after another minute. “There you go.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Dean told her.

They took the stairs, Dean leading the way. Once they got to the door, a metal disc reading 204 affixed to the middle, Dean slowed down, motioning for him to be quiet. A _Please Do Not Disturb!_ Sign hung from the handle. Dean slid the keycard into the door, hissing when it beeped and flashed green, the deadbolt unlocking with a faint clunk. Quick as he could, Dean opened the door and slid inside, Castiel following behind him.

A figure had been standing at the table opposite the hotel beds, and turned sharply at their entrance. “Oh shi-“ Ruby said, before Dean tackled her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I finally updated! Aaaand now I have to work for 11 days in a row. Shit. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you people who have still been commenting, wanting me to continue! You guys give me hope!


	35. All Tied Up

Ruby squirmed under Dean like a snake, trying to get leverage, but Dean had her pinned. With a grim satisfaction, he wrenched her arms back and managed to wrest his cuffs from his belt and snap them on her wrists. Ruby knew the fight was over the moment the cuffs tightened. She stilled beneath him, but Dean knew she was just biding her time for an opportunity.

“Hey, Ruby, long fucking time no see, huh?”

She craned her head to the side, barely able to see him from her position. “You’ve no idea.” she told him, sounding smug as hell.

That wouldn’t do. With a grunt, Dean hauled her up and deposited her face-first onto the hotel bed, kneeing her in the back to keep her in place. She didn’t appreciate that. “-ful with the merchandise.” Ruby complained, muffled by the mattress before she turned her head.

Movement made Dean turn his head to see Castiel stepping out of the bathroom, eyes tracking through the rest of the hotel room in a way Dean had only seen Benny or other ex-military members of the force do. Dean hadn’t even thought to make sure that Ruby was the only one in here with them.

The motion caught Ruby’s attention too. “Well, hello there. Which one are you?” Instead of answering, Cas ignored her and made his way over to the window, twitching the curtain back slightly to look outside.

Dean couldn’t help but feel pleased at the snub. He leaned down, knee still digging into her back. “What, no questions for me? Not even about how Sam’s doing? I’m so hurt.”

“I’m not talking to you, Dean,” Ruby hissed, before her eyes found Cas again. “Fine, be that way. How’s your precious Krissy doing?”

Dean’s focus narrowed onto the back of Ruby’s head. He didn’t even look up to see Castiel’s reaction before he leaned forward again, hard. He knew how hard it was to breathe with someone pressing down like this. Ruby couldn’t talk at all if she didn’t have any air to do it with.

“You _are_ talking to me, Ruby.” Dean growled, head bent down next to hers. “I know you’re the one behind all this shit. I expected you to go after Sam and his wife, and even bring your sick drug dealer habit with you, but giving Gordon the order to _murder_ Henrickson? That’s a whole new level of fucked up even for you. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised since you tried to burn Jessica alive in her own- fuck-“

A hand to the back of Dean’s neck interrupted him mid-sentence. Instinctively, he ducked his head, arm coming up to knock it aside. “Don’t touch the back of my neck.” Dean warned, turning back to glare at Cas.

Frowning back at him, Cas dropped the hand but inched closer. “Dean, let her breathe.”

For a moment, Dean considered not doing it. He could just choke the life out of her right now, satisfy the mindless rage scorching through him, but Cas’ blue eyes were on him still. The moment passed. Dean let up, and Ruby wheezed in air.

When she got enough breath back, she turned her head at an awkward angle, “Fuck you, Dean. I never told Gordon to kill Henrickson-“

“That’s bullshit-“

“-if you think an alpha like _that_ would take orders from an omega-“

“I just don’t believe a word out of your-“

“Dean.” Cas cut in, silencing both of them. “Stop interrupting.”

Dean could hear his voice go up in disbelief. “You’re taking her side?”

At that, Castiel’s frown deepened into a scowl. “It doesn’t matter whether you believe her or not, Dean. We need to listen to what she can tell us. Even if Ruby is no longer a threat, this is not the end of it. I am not being pursued by a lone agent.”

“Aw, cute, a lover’s spat.” Ruby drawled. Dean felt his hackles go up, but Castiel appeared unaffected.

“Did your father send you after me?” Cas questioned, moving up beside the bed so he could see Ruby’s face better.

“Thought that was obvious. The higher-ups _really_ want what you have, and I was the closest.”

“The closest member of the Family?”

Dean couldn’t help but notice the significance Cas put into the word.

“Not officially. Didn’t want to tarnish themselves when my Dad presented as an omega, but they didn’t cut all ties when they kicked him out of the Forests. Organized crime is always better with the enemy you know and love, isn’t it?”

“What the hell happened with Gordon, then?” Dean interrupted. “If you say he wasn’t following your orders, then...”

“Bastard sampled too much of the goods and went off the rails. What did you think happened? He was only supposed to find a way to take Castiel without getting Henrickson on our asses.”

There was something else Dean had to know. “But you weren’t here for Castiel at the beginning, were you?” At that, Ruby went silent.

“You think you can come crawling back and Sam’s just gonna, what? Take you back? Newsflash for you, Ruby, he doesn’t even consider you his mate anymore.”

That hit a sore spot. “You _bitch_.” Ruby spat, “I’m his fucking true mate, he can’t decide that doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah? Well too bad.” Dean said, and made the mistake of looking up at Cas. Their eyes met for a frozen second before Dean looked away.

His eyes fell on the laptop, still open on the table and facing them. The screen was black but Dean could see the little light next to the webcam shining. Goddammit. Mystery texter had seen everything.

“Hey, Cas, close that laptop, would you?” Dean gestured to the laptop with a jerk of his head. Without looking back at Cas, he turned back to Ruby. The snick of the laptop lid closing told him that Cas had done as ordered.

“Now, where were we?” Dean said, settling in. “Oh, right. We got enough now to _nail_ you.”

That had Ruby letting out another surprised laugh. “Really? I don’t believe you can prove anything, Dean, and you can’t hold me for long without charges.”

“What, you talking about Gordon and the recent Red cases? ‘Cause I’m thinking something a bit more small scale. Tampering with evidence, resisting arrest, all the really _awesome_ parts of this meeting here. And if you’re out early, that means you have a parole officer, and I’ll bet they’ll freakin’ love hearing about all this.”

“You-“ Ruby started, but was cut off when Dean’s phone started ringing.

For a moment, Dean almost thought it would be his mysterious texter, since they’d just closed the laptop, but when he pulled out his phone, Bobby’s office phone number appeared on the screen. God, what now? Why was Bobby calling from his office phone?

Again, Dean looked towards Cas. “Hey, Cas, can you-?” he motioned to Ruby. Moving forward, Cas nodded, and they managed to fumble around and change places. Ruby almost kicked Dean right in the nuts during the quick switch, but he backed away just in time.

So Ruby wouldn’t hear, Dean ducked into the bathroom before answering. “Bobby. What’s up?”

“Winchester. Where are you right now?”

Dean paused for a half-second before answering. “At some hotel. Why?”

“We just got a call from a girl working at the Virginia Inn, says two men came in to look at Henrickson’s room. They weren’t in uniform so she just called to make sure they were real officers. The descriptions sounded like you and Castiel.”

“Yeah, that’s us.” Dean replied, turning away from the sink counter where Henrickson’s kit bag still sat.

“Then I need you to bring Castiel in for a bit. The new agent wants to meet him.”

“Okay. I was going to head over there anyways. Guess who I just found?”

“Don’t make me guess.” Bobby groused.

“Alright, jeez. Ruby. Caught her going through Henrickson’s stuff. I’ll bring them both by the station in a little bit. I want to make sure Ruby didn’t tamper with anything.” Dean started to pace around the small room, boots catching on the white linoleum. After a beat, he asked, “So, what’s the new agent like?”

“Well, for one, she out-ranks me, so you better be real polite. I don’t want another Poughkeepsie incident on my hands, you hear?”

That stopped him cold. Dean put a hand over his face. “Yeah, I hear you. I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior. See you in a bit.”

“See you.”

They hung up. Dean couldn’t bring himself to move for several seconds, but he could feel the familiar thrum of adrenaline kicking back in. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Why had Bobby used their code word to drop everything and run when he freaking had Ruby right where he wanted her? What the hell was happening at the police station?

“ _FUCK_!” He didn’t throw anything, but it was a close call.

After a little bit longer, Dean could hear Cas’ concerned voice calling him from the other room. “…Dean? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just, uh, gimme a minute here,” Dean yelled back. They didn’t have much time before the new agent would catch on, and every minute he stood here was another minute wasted.

“Fuck.” Dean whispered again, emphatically.

 

When he had some semblance of a plan, Dean walked back into the main room to find Cas and Ruby where he had left them.

“Dean, is something the matter?” Cas asked.

“Well, in about one hour I think we’re going to be considered fugitives, so yeah, I think something is very the matter.” Dean replied, canvassing the rest of the room. When he spotted the pad of paper and pen that hotels always provided, Dean strode over to it and started to write his note. Hopefully it would be enough.

“What do you mean? Why would we be considered fugitives?”

Finishing his note, Dean shook his head. “Not in front of the real criminal, man. I’ll tell you later.” He moved on to Henrickson’s things, picking up the most important looking files and laptop off of the desk, wrapping the laptop charger up around it all and setting it to the side.

“Alright, next I need Ruby off the bed for a second.” Castiel lifted her off the bed one-handed. _Show-off_. This hotel room didn’t have anywhere secure to cuff Ruby to, not even the underside of the bathroom sink, which was regrettable, and they definitely couldn’t take her with them. That only left Dean with one other option.

Dean stripped the covers off the bed and took the sheets as the other two watched in confusion. When he was ready, Dean turned back to them, twisting the sheet into rope form.

“So, Cas, do you know how to hogtie someone up?”

Ruby did not take kindly to that at all. It took the both of them to tie her up. Dean managed to block out the increasingly severe threats Ruby started to throw at them. Most were to do with outing his omega status, but hell, Gordon had probably already covered that bit, and even if he hadn’t, Dean was going to be out of a job by the end of the day anyways. Not like he had a lot to lose there.

Before long, Ruby was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. “Wait, wait.” Dean said, and brought out his phone to snap a picture and send it to Sam.

“Okay, now we can go.” Dean told Cas, who picked up the files and laptop Dean had set aside. Halfway to the door, Dean turned back. “Ruby, it’s been nice. Rot in hell, bitch.”

That roused Ruby. She locked eyes with him over her shoulder. “It should’ve been you, Dean.” she said, not yelling anymore. “I would’ve told everyone if it had been you. Don’t think I didn’t figure it out as soon as I heard. I only kept quiet because of Sam.”

Turning his back to her, Dean started to herd Cas out of the room.

“I wish he’d never found you!” Ruby shrieked as Dean walked away. “You should’ve stayed Alistair’s _pet_ forever, D-“

Dean slammed the door shut behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh god. i am such a slow writer i'm sorry guys!!! but thank you everyone for encouraging me to go on!


	36. On the Run

They stopped at a little gas station at the edge of town. With a sigh, Dean used his credit card one last time to gas Baby up and leaned against the ticking car, rifling through his wallet. There was enough money in his wallet and in the emergency supply stash in the back of the Impala to get a couple states away, depending on how fast they were booking it.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean started, looking up from his wallet to Castiel as he approached.

“Yes?”

“You have any money on you?” Dean asked, and when Castiel only cocked an eyebrow, he shook his head. “Jesus, nevermind. Forget I asked.”

“Where are we going now?” Castiel inquired in response, and Dean shrugged.

“Away from here. I don’t know.”

“What about whoever gave you the picture of Ruby?”

“Now there’s an idea,” Dean said, pulling out his phone. He had another text message from that same mystery number, sent right after their time with Ruby.

_\- I think you will believe me now when I say call me. I hope you were bright enough to take the laptop with you._

What an asshole.

He pushed call and put it up against his ear, and Castiel crowded closer, intent on overhearing this conversation.

“Personal space, Cas?” Dean muttered over the ringing, but Castiel ignored him.

Someone picked up after a few more rings. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it took you this long to call me,” the man on the other end of the line told him. He had the trace of some accent Dean couldn’t place.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy.”

“No doubt. Is Castiel with you?” Dean and Castiel’s eyes met.

“I’m not telling you anything until I know who this is.” Dean said, and the mystery caller sighed.

“Henrickson’s superior. If you hadn’t realized _that_ yet-“

“Were you the one that sent the new agent?”

“No. She’s not one of mine. You can imagine what that means.”

Dean made a rude sound. “So I’m guessing taking Castiel anywhere near her is the last thing I want to do.”

“Yes, that wouldn't be the wisest course of action.”

“So, that means what for us?”

“If by ‘us’ you mean Castiel and yourself, I have an address I would like you to go to. To meet me in person.”

“And why would you think he’d want to do that?”

“You want a reason?” the man asked, amused. “I can give you one.” He said something in a guttural language that Dean didn’t understand, but Castiel almost ripped Dean’s arm off getting to the phone in response.

“Who is this? How do you know that?” Castiel growled into the phone.

“Ow! Jesus, dude, get off-“ Dean said, trying to get the phone back, but Castiel was stronger than he was, and held him at bay as he listened to the man on the other end of the line.

“Yes. I have it. Chicago.” Castiel replied, and ended the call, finally giving the phone back to Dean.

“What the hell, man. Not cool.” Dean snapped, rubbing his arm.

“We need to meet him at a house on the northern edge of Chicago. I have the address.”

“Of course you do.”

Castiel made his way around the Impala and got into the passenger seat. Dean followed him. “Oh, no, not so fast. You have your phone on you?”

A nod this time.

“Give it to me.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll be able to track our location if you have it on you.” Dean stuck his hand out. “Now give me your goddamn phone.”

Castiel finally pulled it out and gave it over.

“Don’t move. I’ll be back.” Dean told him. When he made his way over to the store, he scanned the trucks in the lot and spotted one with an open window. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he dumped both phones into the compartment, making sure they landed in the footwell, and walked away. That would give their agent something to chase.

 

The drive to Chicago was about eight and a half hours long, if one went the speed limit, which they were going to observe. Getting pulled over for speeding would be the lamest way to get caught, in Dean’s opinion.

In the first two hours, he decided they’d want to stay in a motel for the night so they could be at their best when they met Henrickson’s boss, and because he couldn’t make the whole trip without going absolutely insane. It had nothing to do with the length of the trip. He’d done longer stretches, with more annoying passengers, but he’d never been in a confined space with Castiel without scent blockers on.

It was torture.

As soon as they hit Springfield, twilight had descended, and Dean stopped at a movie theater to switch plates with a black car. “Sorry about this,” he muttered as he unscrewed them from their rightful place, Castiel standing watch.

He could only do another half hour, just to get out of Springfield, before Dean was pulling up to a small motel and jumping out like his seat was on fire. For a few seconds, he just composed himself, breathing in clear air, before heading inside the building. Castiel trailed behind Dean as he went up the the desk to get a room with two doubles, and then followed him to the motel room. As soon as they walked in, Castiel sat on the farthest bed from the door, claiming it for himself.

“You good here?” Dean asked, dropping his stuff in the corner.

Castiel nodded.

“Okay. Awesome. I’m going out. I’ll be back in a while, so don’t wait up.” He had to get this itch out of his system, and the best thing to do in the middle of nowhere was get hammered.

 

* * *

 

 

When the motel door opened a bit after midnight, Castiel wasn’t expecting Dean to come stumbling in.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel asked, worried until the smell of alcohol reached him.

Dean waved him off. “Nuthin’. ‘M jus’ really, really drunk,” he slurred, leaning against the wall as he closed the door and tried to take his shoes off. He wobbled dangerously as the first one dropped to the floor. “Jus’. Been thinkin’, y’know?” The second boot came off, and Dean started in on his jacket. It took a few tries before he was able to get his arms free.

Castiel went back to reading the book he had found in the drawer, relaxing back into place on his motel bed. “Yes, I too think quite a lot.”

“Jackass.” Dean told him, voice moving closer.

Castiel didn’t deign to respond. That is, until Dean’s shadow crossed over him and he took Castiel’s book away to set it on the end table. “Dean, what-“

And suddenly Dean was putting a knee on the other side of Castiel’s hips, leaning in, and kissing him.

All reason left him as Dean’s hands came up to rest right under his ears, fingers curling around the sides of his neck into his hair. Castiel leaned into it, hands coming up to grip at Dean’s arms. After a moment, Dean leaned his head to the side, panting against the side of Castiel’s neck, straddling his hips. Castiel’s mouth tasted of whiskey.

“God,” Dean moaned, hot against the cord of his neck, “jus’ _thinkin_ ’ about the way you smell makes me hard.”

Arousal sparked through his veins at the confession, but after a second Castiel sighed in regret. “Dean,” he said, and Dean pulled back to look at him, “you’re very drunk.”

“No shit,” Dean replied, leaning in again. Castiel turned his head to the side.

“Dean, no.” He pried one of Dean’s hands off of his neck, reluctant.

With a sigh, Dean rolled over to lay on the bed beside Castiel, sprawling loose-limbed over the covers. He threw an arm over his face, and the corner of his lips curled up in something resembling a smile. “Right. M’ such a fuck up not even my scent mate wants me.”

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment in resignation and opened them again to turn on his side, half leaning over Dean. “Stop this,” he said, pulling Dean’s arm away from his face so Dean had no choice but to look at him. “You are not a ‘fuck up’.”

Dean’s eyes were shining dark in the dim lighting. “So, d’you want me?”

“You don’t want me to answer that, Dean.”

“What’f I do?”

Castiel rubbed his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand before he let go. “But you don’t.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean grumbled, and Castiel almost smiled at his recalcitrance.

“Then ask me in the morning,” Castiel said, getting up off the bed. He came back with a glass of water to find Dean shirtless and fumbling with his belt with intense concentration. “Drink this,” Castiel ordered, and Dean looked up, surprised, and left his belt to do so.

When he finished, Dean gave the glass back and slumped back, suddenly grinning up at Castiel as he put the empty glass on the end table. “Would’ja help me take my pants off?” he asked, grin spreading wider.

Castiel was too weak a man for this. “Dean.”

“Really, I can’t get my belt off.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Castiel sighed and bent down and undid Dean’s belt as quickly as he could. When he looked up again, Dean wasn’t smiling anymore.

Castiel stood up and turned away, taking the glass back to the bathroom and closing the door.

 


	37. Death

Castiel locked himself in the bathroom, intent on hiding until Dean fell asleep. He couldn’t face him again, not with Dean acting as he was, all lazy smiles and inviting scent. As Castiel closed the toilet seat lid and sat down, Dean shuffled around outside, the rustle of fabric and the clink of something metallic being dropped to the floor. Oh, but it was tempting.

It worried him, not knowing if he’d have been able to resist a fully functional Dean, using his considerable charm to get what he wanted. Castiel didn’t know if he’d want to resist that. Thankfully, he didn’t have to fret over this for long. In the light of day, and sobriety, Dean wouldn’t remember, or if he did, would never mention this again.

It didn’t matter.

Castiel would be thinking about this for a very long time.

He was not surprised that Dean had fallen back on the easiest coping methods he could get his hands on, considering what he had told him after they had left Ruby tied up in Victor’s hotel room, and left Lawrence behind. All because of a simple word, a command to ‘drop everything and run’. Castiel admired the tactical advantage of code words, though they wouldn’t have worked so well in the Forests. Shifters couldn’t talk through fangs.

They also dealt in absolutes and liked to be paid in blood, which had Castiel wondering what exactly was happening back in Lawrence. Would this new agent let Gordon out? Or side with Ruby, since she had the blood of the Family running through her veins? He wondered how much of Dean’s superior telling them to run was only for Castiel, and how much of it had been for his omega police officer. Maybe they had come to the same conclusion that Gordon had; that their best leverage to capture Castiel was through Dean. It would certainly ease his mind concerning Daphne.

Movement outside had faded to silence, and Castiel listened harder. At the sound of deep, even breaths, Castiel got up and unlocked the door, creeping out into the room. Dean had curled up in the exact place Castiel had been sitting, covers clutched under his chin, only showing his face, slack in sleep. Dean looked a lot younger, more carefree, than he did while awake.

Castiel let himself watch Dean sleep for a moment more before he took the other bed.

 

The sound of Dean retching finally roused Castiel from sleep. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, and waited for a few moments until his mind had cleared before he looked over his shoulder. The bathroom door stood halfway open, and Castiel could see the curve of Dean’s spine as he bent over the toilet. When Dean coughed and gasped for breath, a frission of concern made Castiel get to his feet and make his way over to pause in the doorway. Dean kneeled on the floor, clad only in black boxer-briefs. He was turned away from the doorway, so Castiel could only see the freckled expanse of his back and the way Dean’s head rested on the back of his forearm, propped against the toilet seat. If he heard Castiel approach, he didn’t react. The smell of sick and distress permeated the room.

After a moment of deliberation, Castiel leaned forward. “Dean,” Castiel murmured and touched Dean’s shoulder, “is there anything-“

Dean shrugged Castiel’s hand off his shoulder. “I don’t need your fucking sympathy,” he snapped, not turning around.

Without another word, Castiel took the hand away and retreated, closing the door behind him.

He shouldn’t have worried.

 

Even with avoiding tollroads and skirting the city proper to make their way to the northern suburbs of Chicago from the southwest, the drive only lasted two hours. Dean’s churlish behavior faded as his hangover did, replaced by seriousness the closer they got to their intended address. Castiel tried to keep himself calm by looking at the window, with marginal success. It had rained during the night, and mist still beaded across the glass, streaking like comets.

“Hey,” Dean said, breaking the silence, and Castiel looked over to see him pointing at the street sign when they turned onto it. “Keep a look out. We’re close.”

The address they had been given was in a residential neighborhood, one of the more affluent ones. The houses were much larger than the houses around Daphne’s place in Lawrence. Dean slowed the car down, enough that the house numbers slid by at a readable speed. The closer the numbers got, the slower the car moved, until they pulled over and rolled to a stop. The house itself appeared unremarkable, though the porch light turned on as they watched.

It was difficult to see clearly out the misted windows, but both craned their heads around, peering through the obstructions at the silent houses and browning lawns.

“You see him?” Dean asked, and Castiel glanced back at the solitary man jogging on the sidewalk opposite, made indistinct by his raincoat.

“I see them.”

“Them? Plural?”

Castiel faced forward again. “In the backyard of the house on the right. Behind the fence.”

“You mean the big dog?”

“That’s not a dog.” Castiel answered, and opened the car door.

Dean cursed and parked his car, clambering out to join Castiel as he made his way to the front door. “This is feeling a little above my paygrade,” Dean muttered behind him.

Before Castiel could knock on the door, it opened, and a man gestured them in. “Please, come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Castiel stepped through the doorway and paused a few feet in, looking around. Dean shuffled behind him, crowding close, before the door clicked shut.

The man, a beta by the smell, stepped in front of them. An apologetic look slid onto his features. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to search you both for weapons. We can’t allow any in this meeting.”

“Of course,” Castiel replied, stepping forward, lifting his arms away from himself.

Once the man had patted him down and found nothing, he moved to Dean, who stepped backwards.

“Dean,” Castiel warned, and Dean tried to glare at him as the man stepped forward again and patted him down.

When the man pulled a gun from its holster near Dean’s belt, he took it and set it aside. Same with the pocket knife found in a back pocket. The second knife came from an ankle sheath, and Dean could only shrug when Castiel quirked an eyebrow.

“Alright,” the man said, standing up again when he had finished, “this way.” He turned and walked down the hall, not looking back.

They followed the man as he turned the corner into what looked to be the kitchen. At the far side of the room a figure sat at a small kitchen table, looking out the back panel of windows at the rain, coming down heavier than before. The man that had searched them for weapons turned and gestured them forward again, taking position at the doorway. Castiel moved forward, Dean a step behind him, and the figure turned to face them and stood up, helped by a walking cane.

“Ah, you finally made it,” the man said, “I was beginning to worry you got lost on your way here.” Although he appeared small and frail, almost skeletal under his suit, sharp eyes flickered over them both, and the grip on his cane stayed relaxed. This was the man they had come to see.

“ _You’re_ Henrickson’s superior?” Dean blurted.

“Always so charming, Winchester. Glad to see that Alistair didn’t take that from you.” At that, Dean snapped his mouth shut and the man turned his attention to Castiel. For a long moment, he appraised Castiel. “And you don’t recognize me, do you?”

“Should I?” Castiel replied, and the man shook his head.

“Easier if you had. I hate explaining myself.” The man turned and nodded at the table. “Come, sit. I was just having some tea.”

Dean and Castiel glanced at each other.

“I don’t have all day, you know,” the man told them, sitting down again and propping his cane against the table.

They did as they were told.

“You may go, AJ. Thank you.”

The man at the doorway nodded and left the room.

Dean watched him go. “So, what should we be calling you?” he asked, turning back.

“I don’t care,” the man replied. After a beat, he went on, “I’ve gone by the name Mortimer for years. You may call me that if you wish. And I already know the both of you. Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak.” He leaned forward towards Castiel, as if imparting a secret. “If you’d been Jimmy, you would have known who I was. Tea?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself,” Mortimer shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

“Who are you then, if my brother would have known you?”

“A colleague of sorts. Jimmy never told you what he actually worked on, did he?”

“What do you mean? He was a doctor.”

“Yes. A good one. Which was why he was recruited so early. “

“Recruited?”

“A research lab. I was in charge of a separate division and occasionally visited when I needed to. But I knew all the employees in that particular lab.”

“What the hell were you researching?” Dean broke in, frowning.

“Shifters. What you call tier ones. Collecting data on what makes the change work. The powers that come with the changing. Strength, speed, better immune systems – everything. Even the expression of the second genders between shifters and non-shifters. The Forests have the highest percentage of shifters in the world. What else would we be studying?”

“And my brother?” Castiel asked.

“Virology.”

Realization settled in his gut, heavy and cold. The two omegas. Sick, even before Jimmy had brought them to Castiel.

_They’re planning something terrible-_

“Obviously, your brother didn’t know the end game. He thought they were doing research on a naturally occurring rabies strain. It didn’t occur to him that they were trying to improve upon it.”

“Improve upon it?” Castiel parroted.

“Make it deadlier.”

“This is the worst tea party ever.” Dean muttered.

“I left and took myself out of the equation completely years before, but your brother, when he found out, decided to do something very rash. He stole all their data and destroyed their samples of that one strain. It set them back quite a bit, which is why they’re still looking for what your brother took from them.”

“Why would they create something like that in the first place?” Dean asked, shifting in place.

Mortimer turned his attention to Dean. “Tell me, if someone released a virus so deadly that only shifters, the ones with the best immune systems, could survive, what would happen?”

“Death.” Castiel finally answered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh writing is so difficult


	38. For a Rainy Day

Mortimer let them both absorb the implications for a few more moments before he leaned forward. “So now you can see why it’s so important that we keep the data your brother stole on the Croatoan virus from getting into the wrong hands.” He appraised Castiel for a long second. “I’d like to see it. I know you have it on you right now. You wouldn’t leave it anywhere else.”

The original flashdrive Jimmy had given Castiel did indeed rest heavy against his chest, but Castiel didn’t let his eyes waver. Dean asked the next question for him. “And you wouldn’t be the wrong hands?”

Mortimer didn’t look away from Castiel. “No one’s hands are the right ones for that kind of information.” He put out a hand, palm up, waiting.

Was this a test, to see if Castiel would trust him? Or would Mortimer take it as his own as soon as he had it? Castiel listened for the guards, but no one had approached them since AJ had left them.

When Castiel hesitated for too long, Mortimer raised his eyebrows and wiggled his fingers, expectant. Dean watched in silence as Castiel finally pulled out the small pouch strung around his neck and pulled out the flashdrive. Charlie had her own copy, but she was far away, and Jimmy had died for the small, cold thing Castiel handed over to Mortimer with precise care. Mortimer stood up and leaned over the table to accept it, one hand supporting himself with his wooden cane. When he sat back down, he kept his hand on the handle as he looked at the flashdrive.

“Amazing how small it is, don’t you think?” Mortimer said, offhandedly, and dropped the flashdrive on the floor beside him.

Before Castiel could react, Mortimer brought his cane up and slammed it down in one quick motion, crushing it. Small black pieces skittered across the floor.

For one wild second, Castiel couldn’t control himself.

He felt himself changing, teeth and claws lengthening and pricking skin, calculating his lunge over the table to slit Mortimer’s throat open wide. Dean grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip. He wasn’t strong enough to hold Castiel back, but it was enough to jar him out of it. Castiel took a calculated breath, trying to compose himself, and looked down at the floor. He closed his hand into a fist, claws pricking into the flesh of his palm and drawing blood.

“What the _hell_ was that?” Dean hissed at Mortimer. “Don’t we need leverage, or at least enough data to make a fucking _cure_?”

“I told you, no one’s hands are the right ones for that information. Even a vaccine would need to have the original virus. Too much risk would be involved.” Castiel had to stop himself from going to the floor to pick up the pieces of plastic he could still see. Mortimer kept talking to Dean instead of him. “And if you were smart, you’d have a back-up somewhere. I’d urge you to destroy it immediately.”

“Is that the only reason you’ve been helping us out?” Dean asked, incredulous. “So you could get your hands on that flashdrive?”

“Not the only reason, no. There’s one other loose end.”

At that, Castiel finally looked up to meet Mortimer’s gaze, jaw clenching. “What loose end?”

Mortimer watched him for a few moments before speaking again. “Imagine my surprise when the surviving twin we had been looking for turns out to be an alpha, but says his name is Castiel. Everyone thought you were actually Jimmy going by his brother’s name to throw everyone off, but…Jimmy never had the training Castiel received as a peacekeeper, wouldn’t have been able to escape quite so neatly, _and_ would’ve remembered me. So, that leads me to believe that you really are Castiel, who somehow made a beta-to-alpha transition more than a decade after presenting, without any treatments.”

Castiel could feel Dean turn to stare at him, but said nothing. Mortimer took a moment to drink some tea.

“Funny thing about the virus strain they made, well, besides the name they called it, the Croatoan virus, if you can believe it, was a quirk they found and amplified. Behaviorally, with any strain of rabies, infected alphas and some betas become very aggressive once they’ve reached a certain stage, and the rest of the betas and omegas just…waste away. They worked with my department on trying to find out the processes behind that – I left before they did, and I can’t imagine they figured it out after – but in a very small percentage, very strange things started to happen.”

“Is there a point to all this?” Dean asked, and Castiel raised his arm slightly to indicate silence. Feeling a small tug, Castiel glanced down. Dean hadn’t let go of his sleeve. Dean realized a beat after Castiel did, and snatched his hand back, looking away.

“There is, if you’d let me finish,” Mortimer replied, tone dry, and Castiel turned back to him. “When I mean strange things, I mean something to the effect of, say, an omega starting to turn into an alpha, getting more and more aggressive as the virus multiplied.” Icy fingers shivered up the back of Castiel’s spine as Mortimer leaned forward. “I would very much like to know how much contact you had with the two omegas that your brother stole, and how long it took for you to start turning after you left that hospital you woke up in.”

Castiel slumped against the back of his chair. “The virus changed me,” he murmured, the cloud of anxiousness in his chest suddenly limned with relief. He wasn’t crazy.

“Their other two subjects were torched, and they couldn’t retrieve any good samples of the virus from them after that. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what they’d do if they somehow found out that there was still a live subject in the wind, that might even have their dormant virus somewhere in his system.” Mortimer tapped the side of head. “Suffice it to say, it wouldn’t be something you would walk away from.”

"If you suspected this, why didn't Henrickson try harder to get information from me, or get me to come to you earlier?"

"We didn't know the Hierarchy would make such a bold move, and I had only the faintest suspicion about you at that point. Henrickson was one of my best agents; no family or friends to compromise him, but sometimes he was too nice for his own good. He wanted you to make the choice to cooperate with us on your own, but then one of my other operatives turned out to be working for the Hierarchy, and it was too late to make a different choice."

"Tessa?" Castiel remembered the name from Henrickson's last conversation.

"Yes, that was her name. Luckily, we had a few things in place for such a contingency, though-"

The muted sound of barking started up from outside, interrupting them.

“Amateurs.” Mortimer muttered, and got to his feet, not needing the cane at all. Castiel rose as well, and Dean soon followed, chair scraping behind him.

“What’s happening?” Dean whispered to Castiel, leaning in.

“I’m betting on a SWAT team.” Mortimer answered. “They parked a block over so we wouldn’t see them from this road. They think that’s a dog in the yard.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say a SWAT team for a second.” Dean said.

“Obviously you two haven’t seen the news.” Mortimer replied, and gestured at the doorway they had entered from. AJ was back. “AJ, use the side door.”

“Got it, boss.” Without another word, AJ lead them both down the hallway and into another room, leaving Mortimer behind. AJ stopped in front of the door with his hand on the handle and turned to them. “Since you guys took too long to get here, we’re going to have to improvise a little on the departure.”

“Improvise how?” Dean asked, suspicious.

AJ thrust his hand out. “I’m the distraction. Give me your keys.”

“That’s not happening.”

“It’s either that or the SWAT team. What’s it going to be?”

The faint shuffle of footsteps. “Dean-“ Castiel hissed, grabbing his shoulder.

After another tense second, Dean pulled out his keys from a pocket and handed them over to AJ. “I swear, if you wreck her-“

“That’s the least of our problems.” AJ interrupted, and pointed to the side of the house they could see through the little glass window on the door, warped by the rain. “See the hedge there? Get behind it and follow this row of houses until you hit the golf course. If no one finds you guys, wait on the other side, and if I don’t show up in a red car by the time it gets dark, you’re on your fucking own. Ready?”

When they both nodded, AJ opened the door silently and bolted towards the front of the house, going for the parked Impala. Dean and Castiel darted over to the next house, behind the hedge that encircled it.

Behind them, Castiel heard the roar of the Impala coming to life through the dampening rain. Someone shouted, only to be drowned out by the squeal of tires, heading in the opposite direction. Castiel looked back once to see three dark figures run out from behind the other side of the house they had just been in, running for the road, and Castiel crouched further down and ran faster, Dean behind him. They cut across the lawns as quick as they could, making their way through the deluge, clothing soaked through and heavy on their limbs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone realized it was indeed the croatoan virus in the last chapter lol. i had a heck of a time researching that (and then I realized about how castiel was put under the attack dog spell and everything is awesome now)


	39. Night Ride

“Well, we’re boned,” Dean said finally.

He propped his chin on a hand, boots squelching as he shifted in place. His clothes stuck to his skin, clammy and cold as all hell.

They’d been hiding out for hours under a clump of trees and brush that butted up against the fence on the farthest side of the golf course AJ had told them to go to, close enough to see the road through the overgrown ivy. It had turned completely dark an hour ago, and still no sight of the car AJ had described.

Instead of AJ’s car, two police cruisers had already rolled by; no doubt their patrols had been increased to look for whoever had escaped their raid, and Dean knew that they had also started searching the immediate area on foot. Luckily, the heavy rain had slowed them down at first, but it had petered out to a light drizzle since darkness had descended. They’d probably be found soon if they didn’t move.

When Castiel didn’t respond immediately, Dean turned and eyed him. Castiel busied himself with destroying the grass that he could reach, ripping strands between his fingers. His hair had darkened to an almost black in the rain, plastered flat to his skull. He didn’t look up. Dean didn’t think he’d heard him.

“Any thoughts on what we should do next?” Dean asked, and Castiel seemed to shake himself out of it.

“Hmm?”

Sighing, Dean turned back to watching the road.

Did a double take.

Without looking away, Dean slapped at Cas’ shoulder to catch his attention. “Hey, you see that, right?”

On the other side of the road, a white form slipped into view among the overgrown trees and vegetation. Dean felt Castiel raise his head, a shifting of weight beneath the hand on his shoulder, and after a moment Castiel stood up. The white form moved into a clearer part of the underbrush, its reflective eyes flashing as a car passed between them.

Castiel moved to peer through the fence, Dean scrambling onto his feet to join him.

“Friendly?” Dean asked, and Castiel frowned at him.

“You can’t tell who that is?”

Squinting, Dean watched the canine pace a few more steps before it paused and stared at them. “No? Is it-“ the wolf turned tail and disappeared into the underbrush. “-not waiting for us. Awesome.”

Castiel muttered a curse, glancing in both directions and backing up a good distance. Once he was sure no cars were approaching, Castiel ran towards the fence and vaulted over like a goddamn gazelle. As soon as he had landed, he turned back to look at Dean, waiting expectantly.

“Jesus,” Dean muttered.

He climbed the fence as fast as he could, and they ran across the empty lanes of road and into the woods on the other side. Dean couldn't see anything in such a full dark, so he stayed close behind Castiel as he tracked through the vegetation. Even so, Dean tripped over indistinct shapes and slick surfaces that Castiel avoided, scraping his hands and knees.

It took longer than he expected to make their way through the woods, mostly because Castiel had to wait for him to keep up. After a while, they cut right and finally ended up at the edge of another neighborhood, dark except for a few shining rooms in the houses and scattered street lights filtering through the trees that lined the road. Trailing branches rolled cold water down the back of Dean's neck as he stopped behind Cas, who had paused to survey the open area. Once he'd done so, they made their way through the backyard of the closest house, following the ghostly form of the wolf as it led them forward. Children’s toys lay strewn haphazardly in the dewy grass, raindrops beading on the hard plastic.

In a burst of speed, the white form darted around the side of the house. Castiel and Dean ran after it, but when they turned the corner, their guide had vanished.

Dean groaned and turned in a circle, stopping when he saw the garage door.

It was open.

A red Prius sat parked in one of the two spaces. He was willing to bet money that the car was unlocked, with a key left inside.

But a _red Prius_?

Considering the last few days, it wasn’t like he was surprised.

“Guess it’s too late to turn around and pretend we never saw that car, huh?” Dean joked, half-serious. Cas glared at him.

Like he’d suspected, the car was unlocked, smelling faintly of another omega. Although it seemed to be one of two family cars, the inside of the Prius was suspiciously clean when they searched it, up until Castiel opened the glovebox and withdrew a folded kitchen towel. When he unfolded it, he uncovered a small pistol, a strange-looking silver knife, and a cell phone.

Wordlessly, Cas handed over the gun and the cell phone but kept the knife for himself. Dean hid the gun under the driver’s seat, within reach, and turned his attention to the phone. The cell phone was a burner; it didn’t have any contacts on it, and there weren’t any messages or calls in its history. He pocketed it for later. A phone charger in the center console and an atlas hidden under the back of the driver’s seat were the only other things of note they found.

Finished with their search, they both got into the car, Dean taking the driver’s seat. He didn’t know if Cas even knew how to drive. He tossed the atlas into Cas’ lap.

“Have any suggestions on where to go next?” Dean asked, but Cas only shook his head.

There was only one place Dean considered a sanctuary. “Alright. Sioux Falls it is. You’re on map duty.”

 

Dean only stopped once, halfway across Minnesota. Castiel woke up when the car decelerated, disoriented.

“Just getting gas and some coffee,” Dean told him. “Need anything?”

Castiel grumbled and rested his head against the window again.

Dean didn’t know how public they would make their search for himself and Castiel, but considering the SWAT team and the almost professional spy level of conspiracy bullshit going on, he could only assume the worst.

Once he'd parked the car in front of one of the pumps, he eyed the inside of the gas station. The only person in sight was the cashier, a young woman reading something behind the counter and chewing gum. Dean made his way inside, opening the door and almost wincing when the bell above him dinged. The cashier glanced up at him but went back to her book, leaving Dean to meander through the aisles to get his coffee and snacks in peace. She only looked up again when Dean put his stuff down on the counter in front of her, dark eyes taking him in. She showed no signs of recognizing him.

“This and twenty dollars for some gas at pump two, please.” Dean said, and after a beat she inhaled and frowned at him. He flushed at the judgmental look. “It’s been a long drive,” he muttered, and the cashier only hummed noncommittally and rang him up.

Being stuck out in the rain had dampened his smell, but he’d been wearing the same clothes for three days now. He definitely did not smell good.

She handed him a yellow flyer with his change. “Have a nice day,” she told him, and went back to her book. Dean folded the flyer and pocketed it with his change.

When he went back outside and started filling the Prius with gas, Dean leaned back against the car and put his coffee on top of the Prius. He pulled out the flier, tilting it to catch the light from the gas station.

_OMEGA, DONATE BLOOD AND SAVE LIVES!_

_As an O donor, you are incredibly important to maintaining the blood supply in our community and giving-_

Dean ripped the flyer into little pieces.

 

The sky had just started lightening, turning everything grey and flat, when they arrived at Bobby’s old salvage yard. It had taken them a little under nine hours to get there, and Dean’s head felt fuzzy with exhaustion, a dull pressure starting to pound against the back of his eyes. It was a relief to see such a familiar sight.

Dean parked the car in a secluded spot in the salvage yard, far from any prying eyes that might come by. Once he got out and took the gun with him, Dean put the gun into the holder under his jacket and stretched his arms above his head, groaning at the feeling. Another slam of a car door and Castiel was at his side, looking around at the rusted shells of old cars.

“So this is where Bobby used to live before we all moved down to Lawrence a few years ago." Dean told Cas, dropping his arms. "He couldn’t bring himself to sell the thing, and he only uses it as a summer vacation type of place, so it’s a good place to lay low until we make a game plan.” Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes. “First thing’s first, though, I’m gonna find a bed and pass out.”

Dean gestured for Castiel to follow, then led the way into Bobby’s old house, the wire screen door squealing in protest. Bone tired, Dean could only struggle out of his boots and jacket and watch as Castiel made his way further into the house and disappeared around the corner. Within a minute or two, Dean heard the harsh sound of static and then multiple voices talking. Cas had found the old T.V.

Curious, Dean shuffled his way into the study and paused in the doorframe, listening to the news station Castiel had turned to.

“And in other news, the search for the two fugitives, alpha Castiel Novak and former police officer and omega Dean Winchester, continues. They are wanted for questioning in the murder of FBI agent Victor Henrickson, who had been investigating Castiel’s connection with at least four other murders back in his homeland, the Preserves. Investigators believe Castiel fled the Preserves almost three years ago, and seduced the omega Dean Winchester into helping him avoid authorities when he moved to Lawrence.

"Yesterday, a breakthrough in the investigation led to the raid of a suburban Chicago house by a SWAT team. At the moment, it is unclear just how many people were in the building at the time, as all fled the scene, but after a short car chase and stand-off, one suspect was shot and killed in the ’67 Chevy Impala owned by Dean Winchester. Police are still not revealing the name of the suspect killed, although it is highly likely that it was Dean Winchester himself.

"Earlier this morning, the Old Hierarchy formally requested the extradition of Castiel Novak, and police have agreed and are offering a $300,000 reward for information that can help in apprehending Castiel Novak. If you have any in-“

Castiel turned the T.V. off.


	40. Shifting

Dean woke up sweaty and fuzzy-headed. The afternoon sun slanted through the far window right onto his face, only partly stymied by the thin curtains. For a blissful moment, he just groaned and turned over, away from the bothersome light, and put his face into the familiar musty sheets. Soon enough, the feeling of sweat pooling at the small of his back and in the creases of his bent knees forced him upright.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a bit longer, still heavy with sleep. This particular guest bedroom had been his as a teenager, skipping out on John for a few long weekends to hide out under Bobby’s roof, and then again after Dean and Sam had come here for help after, well. He’d only been able to stay for a month after before they’d all agreed it was better not to have an omega around during Sam’s Red detox, especially with an upcoming rut.

After he rubbed the crust out of his eyes, Dean got up and stretched with a groan.  When he shuffled out of the bedroom, the first thing he did was turn on the water for the house and take a quick bracing shower. There were even clean clothes he’d left behind back in the guest bedroom closet that he gleefully changed into.

Dean didn’t worry about _not_ running into Castiel until he’d descended the stairs for the second time to do a circuit of the house. When he didn’t see him on the first floor, Dean checked the basement and then went back to the second floor to check the other bedroom. The house was empty.

“Cas?” Dean called, coming down the stairs again. He could still see the burner phone where he had left it on the kitchen counter, alongside the weird silver knife Cas had put beside it.

After another minute of retreading his circuit through the first floor again, Dean heard the screen door creak open. Castiel appeared in the hallway.

“You – uh,” Dean trailed off at the sight of him.

Castiel looked up from buttoning his shirt, the upper half still gaping open over tan skin. “Yes, Dean?”

“Where the hell did you go?” Dean asked, paranoid.

“Outside.” Castiel finished buttoning up his shirt.

“Yeah, I know that, thanks. I meant where outside? You didn’t go anywhere people could see you, right?”

“No, I just wanted to survey the property.” Cas moved into the kitchen, out of sight. “You don’t have to worry about anyone recognizing me. I wasn’t in my human form.”

Dean followed, stalled by the thought.

He kept being surprised by that fact for some reason, especially when Castiel just mentioned it so casually like it wasn’t even a big deal. It wasn’t like he didn’t know it existed, either, it was just – it wasn’t real in his world.

Obviously, descriptions of it were in every history book out there, and there were grainy videos of people shifting somewhere on the Internet, but it wasn’t a Thing that happened. Sammy had always been more interested in it than Dean had ever been, and he’d gone on and on about the few studies being done to understand the change - how it wasn’t a physical transformation, of bone and muscle turning into something else, but a transformation of reality – of somehow having a wolf in the place of a human. Dean had usually tuned it out.

The only time it had mattered was when, during a disturbance call that Dean and Benny had arrived to, a pissed off T-2, able to partially shift, had charged at them with elongated teeth and claws. Luckily, they responded to a Taser in the same way.

“What’s it like?” Dean found himself asking.

“What is what like?” Castiel threw a quizzical look over his shoulder before he started to check the contents of each cabinet in the kitchen.

“Shifting. Being a wolf. That sorta thing.”

“Aren’t you a partial shifter, I mean, a T-2?” Castiel asked, finally finding a glass from an upper cabinet and pouring himself some water.

“I mean, I am, but the most I can do is flash my eyes and bench press slightly more than the average Joe.”

“Hmm.” Castiel took a minute to drain his glass. After a beat, Castiel said, “I’m unsure how to explain something you’ve never experienced before.”

“I don’t know. Does shifting hurt? What happens to your clothes?”

Castiel looked amused at the latter question. “My clothes? They stay where they are. It’s why we have the one, loose circular fabric in the Forests, to accommodate our bigger wolf. Confining clothing will split or hurt us if we try to shift while wearing it.”

At that, Dean looked down at the clothing Castiel currently wore. His traitorous mind flashed back to the sight of Castiel re-buttoning his shirt in the hallway.

“And for the first question, it doesn’t hurt for me.”

“It depends on the person?”

“Yes, some people don’t shift as well as others.” At Dean’s squint, Castiel went on, “I’ve not had much experience with the people who struggle with the change. I ran with a pack that had to be very proficient at shifting. Even so, there were a few cases where a pack member had to leave if the change got too difficult for them or, in one case, they got stuck in one form.”

“How does someone get stuck?”

“The change is a conscious choice, sometimes overridden by the subconscious. I can only guess what happened to him to make it impossible to change back into a human.”

“He got stuck as a wolf? What happened to him?”

Castiel only shrugged. “He left one night and never came back.”

“What about you, is your wolf side and human side different? Can you tell?”

“No, I am still me. I’m not different as one form or another. Only, one moment I have a human form, and in the next I have a wolf one.”

“What about that other one, the white one? How did you recognize that one? Who was it?”

Castiel looked at him funny. “I assume since you’ve never seen anyone change before, it would be difficult to tell them apart. It was Mortimer.”

“Oh.”

Now that he had brought it up, Dean’s brain reminded him of the news report they had seen this morning. “Ah, shit,” Dean said, and bee-lined it to Bobby’s old desktop computer.  

When he sat down in the chair in front of it and turned it on, praying it would still work, Castiel came up behind him and hovered. “What’s wrong?”

“That friggin’ news report this morning. Totally forgot about it until just now. Goddammit. Sammy probably thinks I’m the one that died in my car.” The computer took a minute to start up, and it took even longer for him to get online.

Castiel watched as Dean set up a new email account and started to compose an email to Charlie. “What are you doing?”

“Emailing Charlie, what’s it look like?”

“Will they be able to track that back to us?”

“Chill, man, I know what I’m doing,” Dean responded absently. “I know how to avoid the law. I’m also friends with a hacker. Go brood in a corner or something.” After another moment’s thought, he added, “Oh, wait, better yet, go find some clothes upstairs that don’t reek.”

Surreptitiously, Dean watched Castiel as he turned and left the room, then turned back to finish his email. In all fairness, he didn’t actually know what was going down back home, or who was being watched, so he was going to be extra careful.

_To:leiaismyhomegirl@hmail.com_

_From:thehandmaiden@hmail.com_

_Subject: LARP Questions_

_Hello Queen of Moondoor!_

_Handmaiden here, I just had some questions about our current LARP session…_

 

Once he was absolutely sure no one but Charlie could understand the real meaning behind such vague questions, Dean sent it and started researching all he could find in the news about what was happening in Lawrence. Gordon had been arrested for Henrickson’s murder, but there were no mentions of Ruby, and anything else about either him or Cas just made him angry.

After a bit, Dean gave up and leaned back in his chair. He could hear Castiel rummaging around in the next room, probably going through the stacks of books and files that still covered every square inch of the living room-turned-library.

For a second, Dean idly wondered if Cas would shift into a wolf so he could watch if he asked nice enough, and then felt his face redden at the resulting image. More specifically, Cas getting butt-naked in order to do so. Dean furiously turned his attention back to the computer.

God no, he couldn’t ask Cas that.

The sound of shifting papers avalanching to the floor roused Dean from the chair, and he peeked into the library to see Castiel muttering under his breath as he tried to pick them up again.

From this angle, Dean could only see Castiel’s backside, not covered by the trenchcoat anymore. Instead of the trenchcoat and suit, Castiel had found a soft looking flannel shirt and a worn pair of jeans, and Dena had a really great view of the back, with Castiel bent over like that.

He tried not to make a sound at the sight.

Cas still somehow knew he was there and turned half-way around, still on his knees. “Dean, did you remember to ask Charlie about her copy of the flashdrive? I-“

“Yeah,” Dean interrupted, flustered, “I- she knows, I mean, she will know, and no I haven’t heard back from her yet so I’m just-“ Dean hip-checked the doorframe on his way out “gonna go upstairsnowokay.”

Jesus, what was wrong with him? Ever since he got up, he hadn’t gotten anything done without thinking of Castiel. Preferably naked.

It wasn’t until he reached his room and closed the door behind him that he realized. Castiel had been in here – had made his bed, and had even left his dirty clothes behind in the corner, and Dean thought he could just roll around in the scent forever. And that's when he finally fucking realized what this was.

It had been so long, he hadn’t recognized a heat when it was just about to start.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha fuck im a slow writer. anywho, i am excited to write the next one. fucking finally!  
> (i recently moved to a new state and am struggling in applying and getting a new job so i havent felt like writing for a while, but y'know, memorial day weekend was a break for everyone)  
> Happy Memorial Day!


	41. Indulgence

The next time Dean emerged from his bedroom, Castiel finally realized what was happening. He’d been engrossed in a book he’d found, one covering the history of the New Hierarchy’s version of the civil war, totally different from his own accounts, when a wave of pheromones crashed over him. It was so strong and unexpected that Castiel could only inhale in surprise and look up.

Dean was leaning up against one side of the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him with an inscrutable expression.

Even during the Mischel test, Castiel had never been so affected by a scent before. He’d never felt such an instinctual need to grab hold of whatever this scent was and never let it go.

After a few seconds, Castiel finally remembered Dean was still watching him. He dropped his gaze back to his book, but whatever had crossed his face had been clear for all to see.

Dean didn’t say anything about it, but he remained standing at the doorway as Castiel pretended to read. He tried focusing on the page in front of him, but his concentration would not be moved off of the source of that smell. The fine hairs on his arms and the back of his neck pebbled at the enthralling scent, but Castiel affected a studious disinterest.  

When another drawn out minute passed, Castiel surreptitiously glanced up again, heart pounding.

Dean was still watching him.

When he met Castiel’s eyes, he cocked an eyebrow.

“Dean, did you-“ Castiel had to clear his throat, “did you want something?” When he realized the double entendre, he began to sweat beneath the scrutiny.

“You can smell me, right?” Dean asked.

Castiel could only nod.

For another moment, Dean just looked him over, calculating. “You never answered my question before,” he finally said.

“What?” Castiel asked, and immediately knew what Dean was referring to. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d crawled into his lap and kissed him. Asked if Castiel wanted him.

Castiel shifted in place, grateful of the book in his lap. “I – yes, I do. Want you.” After a terrifying beat of silence, Castiel continued, “At least, that’s what I assume you meant when-“

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, “shut up.” He pushed off the doorframe with his shoulder and started forward.

Castiel felt his tongue glue to the roof of his mouth.

This felt familiar. Dean knelt down and pried the book from his hands, crowding in closer.

“I don’t think-“ Castiel started, trying to lean back himself, but Dean grabbed a handful of shirt and stopped him.

“If you say something about how I can’t make my own choices right now, I swear to god,” Dean threatened, and Castiel blinked at the vehemence. “Pretty sure we’re on the same page right now. It doesn’t have to mean any more than that.”

Castiel wasn’t going to correct him. He’d give Dean anything he asked for, and keep the rest to himself.

Dean gave him a few more short seconds, meeting his eyes in a question, but when Castiel didn’t protest, he leaned forward again.

The angle was awkward, with Dean kneeling over him like he was, but the kiss was definitely not.

Dean was obviously more experienced at this than he was, and sober enough to use it to his advantage this time. A few careful press of lips against his and then Dean put a heavy hand on the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. Castiel lost himself in the sensation, too inexperienced to do anything but take what Dean was giving him. Too soon, Dean pulled back, Castiel trying to follow until he understood what was happening.

Castiel had closed his eyes at some point, and when he opened them again, Dean was smirking down at him. Instead of dealing with putting words together, Castiel could only make a questioning sound.

“Man, I was really drunk last time if I couldn’t tell how much of a newbie you are at this,” Dean chuckled. Before Castiel could get offended, he continued, “It’s kinda doing something for me. Never spent a heat with anyone, have you?”

When Castiel shook his head, Dean’s smirk faded into seriousness. “Just so we’re clear, I’m in charge. You try manhandling me or grabbing my neck, we’re done. I’m not yours, understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” Castiel said after a beat, reeling from Dean’s mercurial moods.

“Good.” Dean said, and got to his feet. When he offered a hand, Castiel took it, and Dean helped haul him upright.

Once his feet were under him, Dean didn’t waste any time in dropping Castiel’s hand and making his way out of room. He paused at the doorway to glance back at Castiel, gesturing him to follow, before he disappeared into the hallway.

Too bewitched by Dean’ scent to do anything else, Castiel trailed after him.

Dean led him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

If Castiel thought he’d been scent-drunk before, he’d been mistaken. What had once only been old, faded scents had been drenched in Dean’s heat scent and the smell of sex. Castiel was so distracted he almost didn’t notice Dean shutting the door behind them.

Before he could really break out of it, Dean turned him around and kissed him again. This one had growing intent behind it, and it sparked the same in Castiel. Mindful of the orders he’d been given, Castiel finally settled on placing his hands on Dean’s waist.

Dean had no such qualms himself.

He bit at Castiel’s lips and grabbed at his shirt, enough for Castiel to get the message. They both fumbled Castiel’s shirt off, and then the uncomfortably tight jeans and boxers.

Before Castiel could decide if he should start in on Dean’s clothes, he was crowded back until his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he abruptly sat down on the bed.

For a minute, Dean just looked his fill, and Castiel let him. He watched as Dean started from the extensive scarring on his arms, following them up and across the few old scars on his torso from his time as a peacekeeper in the Forests, and then lower, to - oh.

It was a testament to how used to clothing and this society’s nudity taboo he’d gotten that Castiel felt so naked now under Dean’s gaze.

Before too long, Dean started to unbutton his own shirt, and Castiel could only watch and keep his trembling hands to himself.

Dean noticed, of course. He nudged Castiel’s legs apart more so he could stand between them. “You wanna help with my belt?”

Yes, he did. Emphatically.

Castiel undid the belt without too much trouble, and by that time Dean had shrugged out of his own shirt, and then shed the jeans after a few more seconds. Castiel drank in the sight of freckled shoulders and flushed skin.

Dean was just as hard as Castiel was, and absentmindedly stroked himself like he couldn’t help it. That more than anything stoked the fire under Castiel’s skin to unimaginable levels, the kind of feeling he only got during ruts.

Castiel had to touch.

He ran his hands up the backs of Dean’s bare thighs and looked up at the sharp intake of breath. Dean had his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the faintest ring of gold around his pupils.

Castiel wondered absently if his own muddied red was showing in his eyes.

“So is it true what they say about shifters?” Dean asked, almost jokingly.

After a confused second, Castiel cocked his head. “What do they say about shifters?”

“About-“ Dean gestured down, towards Castiel’s groin. “y’know, when- does your dick, uh, _change_? There’s some hardcore porn of shifters, but I never dabbled in it myself. Just heard rumors.”

“You’re talking about knotting, yes?” Castiel asked, tamping down some amusement.

“Ugh. Fine, yes. That.”

“I’m much too good a shifter for that to happen in human form. However, when I’m a wolf-“

“Okay, yeah, forget I asked,” Dean interrupted, clearly uncomfortable. Castiel bit down a smile and considered his own inexperience.

“I have a question for you,” Castiel started, and felt a blush start across his face. Dean just cocked an eyebrow and waited. “Do- I’ve never done this before – do male omegas-?” Instead of saying it, Castiel ran his hands from the backs of Dean’s thighs to the crease of his ass.

He was not expecting Dean to burst out laughing.

“No, no come back-“ Dean said, grabbing at Castiel’s retreating hands. “What kinda porn have _you_ been watching?”

“I don’t watch porn.” Castiel grumbled.

“Right, right. No sex ed growing up, I got it.” Dean was grinning at him, all sparkling eyes and laugh lines, and Castiel stopped feeling slighted at the sight.

“Then how is this going to, uh, work?”

“ _That’s_ not going to be possible here, but there are some great alternatives.” Dean told him, waggling his eyebrows.

“Alternatives? What-“

Dean bent down and captured him into another kiss, dragging his hands up Castiel’s arms to his shoulders. Dean nudged him back to scoot up the bed, following him on hands and knees, and then his touch went lower, trailing down his stomach.  

Castiel accidentally groaned out loud into the kiss when Dean finally wrapped a hand around him. He clutched at Dean’s shoulders and looked down between them.

“Here, let me show you,” Dean murmured into his ear. “Give you some ideas.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, i tried lol  
> so ive been struggling with this scene for a while because ive been trying reconcile writing these scenes as an asexual and my comfort level with it. if youve been wondering. anyways, ratings gonna stay mature and not change to explicit.   
> also, hey all how's life. everything is terrible in america.


	42. Taken

It quickly became apparent to Castiel that he was being used.

Even during the first time, as soon as both of them were done and the wave of heat had passed, Dean had left without a backwards glance, and Castiel had recovered alone, a heavy feeling coalescing in his gut. He understood why Dean was doing it, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. Dean was fulfilling a physical need _and_ avoiding attachments; guiding principles he seemed to live his life by.

Dean didn’t owe anything to the foolish alpha who had gone along with it, Castiel told himself, but he had feelings too.

It chafed when he was completely ignored for hours and hours at a time as they went about their daily business separately, until Dean deigned to track him down again.

Even then, the benefits surely outweighed the negatives. Castiel had never been so obsessed with sexual pleasure outside ruts since he’d first discovered masturbation.

As for the negatives, well. Castiel was well versed in tamping down emotions when he needed to.

When they weren’t together, Dean checked his email in between the stronger waves of his heat, catching up with Charlie and the rest of his family and friends that he could get a hold of through her.

They had made no progress in cracking the encryption on the copied flashdrive data, though a student named Kevin had been roped into the project. Castiel had a sinking feeling it would never be of use even if they did crack it, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask for it to be destroyed. Better to let them work for a goal that would never happen than give up all together.

Any other news Dean got was not shared with him, but it made Dean get up several times and pace the living room. Their subsequent encounters were always a bit more heated after such an email.

Late on the second day, instead of going to Castiel, Dean left the house, the screen door banging behind him.

Startled by the noise, Castiel looked up from his book and went to the window.

He could see Dean disappearing into the maze of cars that surrounded the house, an opened beer bottle dangling from his fingers. The sun was almost done setting, turning the sky a deep purple, pink clouds lining the horizon. It would turn dark in a few more minutes.  

Castiel had a short internal debate, but then sighed and left his book to follow Dean. He made sure to ease the screen door shut so it didn’t slam, and turned to head in the direction he’d seen Dean go.

The air had turned cold without the sun to warm it, which was probably why Dean had decided to come out here. He’d been trying to sweat this wave out instead of going to Castiel.

It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did.

“Dean?” Castiel called out, walking between the towering piles of dilapidated cars.

After a long moment, a disembodied voice answered. “Over here, Cas.”

Castiel followed until he found Dean sitting on the hood of a rusted car, beer in hand. He raised it slightly in greeting when he saw Castiel. “Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.”

When Castiel made no move to join him, Dean settled back.

“I don’t need your help right now.”

Castiel put his hands in his pockets and determinately did not look at Dean. “I know.”

Dean’s inviting scent had all but dissipated in the open, but Castiel was still drawn to him. It was up to Dean how much he wanted to share, but Castiel couldn’t help himself in wanting to be closer.

After a few drawn-out seconds, Dean sighed. “Jesus, sit down or go away. Don’t just hover.”

Castiel sat down on the edge of the hood without hesitation. Dean didn’t start a conversation so Castiel craned his neck up to watch the sky as the sun disappeared.

For all of their problems, this isolated reprieve had distanced the anxiety and urgency that had gone along with them. Any news they got from this point on would be bad. Castiel couldn’t see a rosy future ahead, but he didn’t have to face it just yet. He could just spend time with Dean and ignore it all for a while. Castiel wished it could go on forever.

They sat in relative silence as the glow of the sun faded into the muted tones of twilight. Dean finished his beer and scooted off the hood. He stretched and glanced over at Castiel.

“Wanna go in?”

Castiel nodded and rose from his spot. Gravel crunched under their feet as they walked back together, so loud Castiel almost missed the faint sound of metal clanking against metal.

He stopped.

“Did you hear that?” Castiel asked, cocking his head.

Dean stopped walking as well and looked back at him. “Hear what?”

Castiel shushed him, swiveling his head to listen closer. The junkyard was quiet, but the sense that something was wrong did not go away. Listening to his instincts, Castiel turned around and surveyed the rusted shells of old cars that surrounded them, growing indistinct in the growing dark. The clink of metal on metal that he had heard before did not sound again, but the pervasive sense of dread only increased. It felt like they were being watched.

“Dean, get back inside,” Castiel said, quiet as he could.

Before Dean could respond, a man stepped out from behind one of the stacks of twisted cars, an old rusted metal collar in his hand. The metal chain attached to it dangled from his hand, trailing along the ground behind him.

Four more silently emerged from the blind spots of the cars around them. They were dressed in regular black suits, but they all had a blood red line painted down the middle of their faces, showing what they really were.

Castiel never thought he’d see another hunting pack again.

At the sight, he reached back and shoved Dean away from them. Dean wouldn’t stand a chance of fighting without a gun. With five hunters, neither would Castiel.

“Dean, RUN!” Castiel roared.

Without turning to see if Dean had listened, Castiel snarled a challenge at the hunting pack, eyes burning. The two to his right turned to sprint towards the house, after Dean, and the other three headed for Castiel.

This was a well-trained pack, all moving together in silence and going for their prey in the most effective manner. They were not going to fail here, and they knew it. Castiel knew it as well.

They wanted him alive. He wasn’t sure they wanted the same for Dean.

Castiel ran for the two going after Dean, shifting just enough for the claws on his hands to appear.

One of the two saw him coming and turned to stop him from going after the other, jumping back when Castiel swiped at him. The other three caught him from behind, and Castiel was tackled to the ground, gravel biting into his face.

He snarled again when one grabbed him by the hair to lift his head up. The cold kiss of metal circled his neck as they fitted him with the collar and locked it in place.

This was the basest form of restraint the Forests had. Clothing could tear, and shackles could confine unless one was desperate enough to lose some appendages to shift into a wolf, but a metal collar made shifting fatal.

The humiliation of a collar was just an added bonus.

As they tied his hands behind him, Castiel turned his head to see Dean struggling beneath the fifth hunter.

They had a collar for him as well.

When Dean saw it, he struggled even harder, but he stood no chance against the strength of a shifter.

“No!” Dean almost shouted, straining desperately to get away from the collar. “No, fuck-“

As soon as the collar was secured around his neck, all the fight went out of Dean. He slumped to the ground, breathing hard and staring sightlessly ahead.

Castiel felt his insides freeze at Dean’s blank expression.

“Get them into the van,” one of them said from above him, “I’ll search the house.”

Castiel was jerked to his feet by the chain attached to his collar.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lawrence

 

It didn’t take Sam long to go through the screening and security measures set in place for inmate visitations.

He’d debated hard and long over this decision, and even though most of the people he’d talked to had advised him not to, it didn’t change his need to get answers. He’d been told about the Impala, and the man who’d been shot dead inside it. Dean would’ve only left the Impala in an emergency, and now Dean and Castiel were on the run. He couldn’t help them with that, but he could follow the damning thread that had started this whole situation back to its source, and see where it led.

Benny led him forward, and when they got to the cell he stepped back to the side.

For a moment, Sam paused to take a deep breath, and then he walked forward until the cell’s occupant came into view.

“Gordon,” Sam said.

“Sam,” Gordon returned.

They sized each other up through the bars. Gordon was leaning against the plain brick wall, at ease, seemingly unconcerned. “Not feeling up to visiting Ruby?” Gordon asked, a glint in his eyes.

It hit remarkably well, but Sam kept his composure. He was just here for answers.

“Why’d you do it, Gordon?”

“Do what?”

Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was gonna be like that, was it?

“Gordon, let me get this straight. You gave up your career by murdering a federal agent for…what exactly? More Red from Ruby?”

A smile spread across Gordon’s face like an oil slick. He sat up straight, really looking at Sam this time.

“Sam, Sam, Sam. Don’t tell me Ruby never told you.”

When Sam could only stare back, Gordon laughed.

“You’re too much a pussy to face her yourself, so actually, I’m not surprised.”

“Gordon,” Sam warned.

“You know what Red feels like. It feels incredible, doesn’t it? Like you’re invincible.” Gordon leaned forward. “That’s just a perk. I don’t do things for drugs. I’m a better policeman than that.”

“You’re not a policeman anymore, Gordon.”

“You’re right about that, I guess,” Gordon conceded. “Won’t matter for long, though.”

Sam blinked. “What? What do you mean it won’t matter for long?”

Gordon just looked at him. “This so-called New Hierarchy is shit,” he said. “I’ve gotten sick and tired of upholding the law when no one respects us anymore. And when Ruby came around promising something new? You bet your ass I took her up on it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Gordon sidled up to the bars, so close he could lower his voice so Benny couldn’t overhear. “C’mon, Sam. You should’ve been wondering why the Old Hierarchy’s been dabbling in the black market, dealing with Red and such. Best way to set up a supply system without anyone being the wiser, and get people to take drugs without even asking what they are.”

Sam stepped away from the bars.

Gordon stood up. “Aw, did I upset you? Hey wait, c’mon-“ he called as Sam retreated down the hallway with Benny on his heels. “Hey, Sam, did they tell you they’re releasing Ruby? I bet the reunion will be touching!”

It hadn’t been that long ago that Sam had been part of that same supply system, and enjoying every second he spent high on Red and with Ruby. It was only after he’d discovered the human trafficking that he’d started to regret it all.

If only he’d had more self-control.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end of act 1  
> since this is so goddamn long i am splitting it into parts  
> act 2 to follow
> 
> ...still cant believe I've spanned 4 years and 80,000+ words to get to that last line

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to say hi, talk to me about whatever, or bother me about updating at my tumblr [here](http://starmouse123.tumblr.com/)!


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